Little Sister, Don't You
by JuliaBeth
Summary: Will Chummy's sister, fresh out of college have the stuff to make it in the east end? Or will the sights and smells she isn't used to send her packing? Will she find love with royalty or heartache with a local boy? This is her story of 1957-1961. It starts right after, like days after Chummy is visited by her mother.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Call the Midwife belongs to Neal Street productions. Little Sister is an Elvis song from the early sixties.

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1958

Roseanna Fortescue-Cholmeley-Browne rushed up the steps of Nonnatus house. She knew she had to be quick. She had just returned to England and joined the public health works. She wanted to have her introductions and all done before her sister saw her there.

She hadn't seen Chummy in 4 years. That was how long she was gone abroad to school. She had always meant to come home for holiday, but she never quite made it, mostly, because holidays weren't much to come home for. Oh, Father and Mother still had celebrations, but they were more for their friends than their kids. Once her youngest son had been out on his own, Mother had sent her youngest girl off to boarding school and the oldest…, well, it was fortunate that her father had insisted on sending her for higher education. Their father had always said they'd best find a husband for Roseanna and a career for Camilla.

It tickled her that Chummy was the one who had a beau. A beau and a career. Not that their mother approved of Chummy's career. Or her Beau. She had wanted Chummy to be THE seamstress to the upper crust of London. She wanted to be the 'one' to go to when you needed a card for your daughter's wedding dress or grandchild's Christening gown, instead Chummy had left the seamstress school she loved to pursue something she saw as challenging. She became a nurse, then a midwife. Then the appearance of Peter in Chummy's life had thrown another monkey wrench in Mater's plans as she had designs to marry off Chummy to a rich widower friend of Father's. Good for Chummy, too, as Mr. Welchshire had eleven kids from three previous wives. Rose felt mother should worry more about why he was widowed so many times than how to get him and Chummy around to dinner together more often.

"I see that you studied nursing at Wellesley College in America," Sister Julienne said. "Why did you choose to return to England and to Popular in particular?"

"Well, the returning to England part was easy," she replied without a hint of humor, in the straightforward way that Chummy seemed to have to when talking about her past life. "Mater insisted that I run straight home when I failed to acquire the degree she wished me to receive. As for how I ended up here, in Popular with the exact same assignment through national health as my sister, well, I fear Mummy may have made some extremely generous donations to secure my place here. I think she believes that I can talk Camilla out of her 'romance' with the, how did she put it, 'beat bobby', but I assure you I have absolutely no desire to bring that drama to my sister's door or to this establishment. Though, I wouldn't blame you if you refused to have any part in it and sent me packing. However, my credentials are real and I take my job very seriously."

Sister Julienne smiled. "I'm sure you do, and however you ended up with this assignment, we never turn extra hands around here." She looked towards the door. "I do believe that Nurse Browne is out on a delivery, but I will introduce you to your other colleagues. Follow me."

She followed the Sister into a small dining room. Three ladies in nurses' uniforms and two more nuns were enjoying their breakfasts.

"Everyone, this is our new nurse…," Sister Julienne began.

"Wonderful!" A chipper blonde interrupted. "Re-enforcements. Brilliant. Are you a midwife, as well?"

"As I was saying," Sister Julienne continued with patience. "Nurse Fortescue-Cholmeley-Browne joins us from Wellesley College. She..,"

"Oh, not another one," Sister Evangelina interjected. "Can this one at least ride a bike? We are running out of Constables to take out."

Rose was bit confused about the constables remark but nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, we rode all the time at Wellesley."

"Hmmph..," came Sister Evangelina's reply. "Well, that's something then."

"Nurse Browne.." Sister Julienne tried again.

"So, are you Chummy's sister?" the taller brunette asked. Taking in the sight of the girl standing in front them. She was shorter than Chummy but taller than herself. She was smaller than Chummy but not petite. She had the same chestnut brown hair, but hers was in a fashionable bob with curls. She had the same honey brown eyes hidden behind cat-eyed glasses. She was wearing a silk dress and pointed high heels.

"Yes, Chummy is my sister," Rose replied. "Roseanna Browne." She held out her hand to Jenny.

"As I was saying," Sister Julienne said firmly. "Nurse Browne, or do you prefer Fort…"

"Browne is fine. One finds that whole name incredibly tiring to say, hear, or write all day long."

"Nurse Browne, this is Nurse Lee, Nurse Miller, Nurse Franklin, Sister Bernadette, and Sister Evangelina," Sister Julienne said, quite happy to have the introductions over with.

"I'm Trixie," the blonde said, shaking Rose's hand. "Bloody brilliant you are here. Shame on Chummy for not telling us, though. People aren't allowed to keep secrets from me."

"She didn't know. I didn't know myself until two days ago. I thought I was bound for King's College," she explained.

"So, she has no idea? Marvelous. We will give her such a fright. Sit down like you are having breakfast, just like any other day." Trixie ushered her into a sit beside Cynthia. "Won't she be shocked?"

Rose let herself be led in the plan as Nurse, call me Jenny, Lee put a plate of crisps in front of her and the one named Cynthia poured her some tea before they returned to their seats, all trying to be serious. Rose just hoped it would be a good shock.

It wasn't five minutes later that she heard Chummy's voice floating through the hall. "What-ho, Sister Julienne."

"Back already, Nurse Browne?" Sister Julienne replied, good naturedly allowing Trixie's surprise.

"Yes, indeed. One does think Mrs. Whelks doesn't even need us anymore," she reported. "She was already ready to push when I got there. Said she didn't want to bother us before then."

"Well, it is her thirteenth. She is as much as expert as we are, probably more so," the Sister smiled. "Run along and have some breakfast. Your pack can wait just a bit."

Chummy set her bag down in the treatment room, wondering why Sister Julienne had sent her to breakfast before restocking her bag, usually their travel kits were first priority. She shrugged assuming that possibly the extra equipment was still in the autoclave. She hastened her steps to the kitchen.

"Hello, all. Had a wonderful delivery, baby girl, 8 pounds, 6 ounces, and a healthy set…" Chummy's words faded off as she looked around the table. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Was her little sister really sitting between Trixie and Cynthia munching on a piece of toast? She took her glasses off and wiped them on her arm before putting them back on.

"Still here, Sissy, though one does wonder why one thought one was simply a speck on one's glasses, but one will forgive you this time," Rosie grinned.

"Yes, forgive one as one would have thought that one would at least telephone one's sister before just showing up at the breakfast table," Chummy replied, her own smile growing.

"Oh geez," Sister Evangelina grumbled. "She didn't know she was headed here till two days ago, now hug ye sista and stop with all the hoity-toity talk before it turns me off me breakfast." She motioned for Rose to join Chummy.

The two ladies gladly hugged, having been much younger the last time they saw one another.

"You can stop with the hugging now," Trixie said, pleased with her surprised. "Before I turn off my breakfast."

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	2. Chapter 2

Camilla pulled Roseanna along to her room. She had volunteered to show her the ropes, not out of some sisterly affection, but instead to tell the younger girl how things were in Poplar and to find out just what the devil she was doing at Nonnatus house.

"Okay, Sister, spill it," Chummy demanded as she closed the door to her small bedroom. "What are you doing here? Your last letter said you were headed for King's College hospital."

"Mummy pulled some strings, she had to have. I was all set to head to head to London, I was flat shopping with Suzy, then I got a letter from NHS saying that I was to report to Nonnatus house instead," Rose replied.

"She's only been gone three days," Chummy said. "What could she possibly have done in three days?"

"You mean, besides yelling at me because you are pissing around with a common bobby?" Rosie replied. "Apparently she can make her first stop the National Health and make a donation of 5,000 pounds to see to it that I was place here to stop you from 'ruining our family line with East End trash', though I'm not really sure what I am supposed to do about that. I mean, I guess I could try to lure him away from you, but I don't really want to do that. One, because you are my sister and I love you dearly, and two, because I just don't see myself as a 'dating a Peeler' kind of girl."

Camilla opened her mouth to let Rosie have it about the 'hoity-toity' attitude she was showing, but Rose never slowed down her speech.

"All in all, I did tell her that if you were bonking a bobby then it was probably the best thing for the family, because if we keep just marrying royalty pretty soon we'll be inbreeding and the boys have few enough brain cells as it is. We don't need to be marrying cousins in this family," Rose waffled on.

"You told Mater WHAT?" Chummy exclaimed. "What did she do?!"

"She popped my mouth for being vulgar. One isn't sure if it's because one said, 'bonking' or because one referred to you and the bobby bonking."

She looked at her sister's mouth. She had hidden it well, but Chummy could just see the cut from Mater's ring above her lip, through the make-up.

"His name is Peter Noakes. Please stop calling him the bobby," she said, her defenses softening. "And she needn't have bothered. He hasn't spoken to me since the day she was here."

"He ran away, didn't her? I told you never introduce a boy to Mummy," Rosie sighed. "She eats them for lunch."

"For your information, no. He proposed, or one thinks he was going to, but I told him stop and I ran away," Chummy said, defensive again.

"Before or after he met Mummy?"

"After. And after she told me nothing here is acceptable."

"Bloody hell, Sis, he proposed after he met Mater and you let him get away?" Roseanna said, incredulously. "Are you daft?"

"No. I'm not. Mater is right, it would never work. Peter doesn't deserve someone like me. He deserves..," Chummy faded off, looking at her sister. Roseanna had never been too big, carrying her height well on tiny feet and a slender waist. She had never had a problem with fashion, or make-up, or saying the right, using the right utensil. She was the daughter Chummy thought Mater had always wanted. Right up until Rosie had dumped her Harvard Beau right before Mater believed he was going to propose. Then she had dragged Rosie back to England as fast as she could just in time for the season. Just in time to parade her around in front of every eligible bachelor in the West End.

"Oh, don't tell me you think you're too good for him now, I mean, you are the one who is bonking him," Rosie shrugged.

"I am NOT.., you know.., I'm still a virgin," Chummy declared. "And no I don't think I'm too good for him. I think he is far too good for me."

"Wow, you got disowned and you didn't even get any nookie out of it?" Roseanna shook her head. "Anyway, I think she is punishing me too, by sending me to this hole."

"Why would she be punishing you?"

"Because she _thinks_ I'm not a virgin anymore, therefore I can't marry nice boys. Like his parents were going to hang out the bloodied bed linens the morning after."

"Rosie!"

"Oh, calm down, Chums. She only thinks that because she found a box Tampax in my room, and as we all know only bad girls can fit tampons up there," Rose said with a roll of her eyes.

"That's not true. No matter, let's get you ready. I should be getting a call anytime now and we have ante-natal clinic this afternoon," Chummy said, handing Rose one of the blue uniforms Jenny had brought up from laundry.

"Perfect. Undo my zip, please." She turned her back to Chummy.

Chummy gasped and shut her eyes. "Rosie, what happened to your back?" She took in the blue bruises crossing her little sister's back.

"I told you," she replied flatly. "Mummy thinks I'm not a virgin anymore."

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More to come later…,

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	3. Chapter 3

"Your earrings," Chummy said, taking one last look at Rose before they headed down to get her bag.

"What about them?" Rose asked, toying with them.

"You can't wear them," Chummy said.

"Why ever not? I wore them in training," she replied.

"You did not train in the East End," Chummy explained. "Those earrings cost more than most homes around here. Most people here barely have anything and you aren't going to endear yourself to the local women by walking around in jewelry and clothing that could feed their families for a month."

"So.., because they're poor, I can't wear nice clothes?" Rosie rolled her eyes.

"Yes. That's it exactly," Chummy snapped. "And while you're taking them off, maybe you should think about being in their shoes. Imagine not being able to pop in to Norman Hartnell whenever you want a new dress. Or to never have a new dress, or shoes, or even enough food to feed your family. Charity work isn't so pretty when it's really work, is it?"

"Calm yourself, Chums. I don't need a lecture. You're beginning to sound like Mummy."

"I'm not the only one," she replied, taken back by the comment. "Come, one doesn't want to be late. Oh, and for goodness sake, don't say anything about the glass rectal tubes."

"_Glass_?"

* * *

"It really is a bad deal, this. We did try to convince them that Sister Monica Joan doesn't know what she is doing, but apparently it's been going on for a while and the merchants want something done. We are hoping that if we can just return the items, they will drop the charges."

Rose looked up from the textbook Sister Bernadette had her reading to see Jenny coming into the kitchen with a tall curly haired policeman following her. He had a box in his hands.

"It's alright, Peter, we know you are just doing your job," Jenny said. "I'll just get Mrs. Bennett to look at those utensils to see if any of them belong here before they are marked as stolen."

Rose couldn't see what Chummy saw in him but at least he was a handsome sort.

"So, you are Peter Noakes," Rose said, coolly.

"Yes, and you are?" He replied politely.

"Roseanna Fortescue Cholmeley Browne."

"She's our new nurse," Jenny explained quickly. "Apparently national health decided to send us help without Sister Julienne having to harangue them for once."

"You are Camilla's sister?" Peter asked, confused.

"Yes."

"She said you were going to be placed at King's College. She was so looking forward to you being back in London," he said.

"Obviously plans have changed," Rosie replied.

"Yes, well, it's nice to meet you," Peter said.

"Indeed." She turned back to her book, coldly dismissing him with a look.

* * *

"So, what do you all think of Roseanna?" Trixie asked as she, Jenny, and Cynthia played their weekly game of monopoly.

"She did well in clinic yesterday," Cynthia said.

"How hard is it to weigh babies?" Jenny said. "I think she's a right old snob."

"Whatever did she do to you?" Trixie laughed.

"Not me, poor Peter," she explained. "He met her yesterday when he was here to search Sister Monica Joan's room and she was completely beastly to him. She acted like he was something she found on the bottom of her shoe. I hope she leaves before she ruins Chummy's life even more than their mother did."

"I wonder how Chummy managed to come from that family," Trixie said. "Well, if we're lucky she'll totally bollocks up this delivery with Sister Evangelina. You know Sister Evangelina will toss her out on her rear end if she messes up with a patient."

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Two days later, Rose found Chummy sitting outside the chapel as the Nuns said their prayers. She was toying with her crucifix and Rose could see the tears on her cheeks. She still didn't see what Chummy saw in the constable, but she hated to see her so upset. She went over and sat down beside her.

Neither spoke. Rose gave Chummy her handkerchief and wrapped her arms around her, letting her cry. So many times in her life, Chummy had comforted her. When their parents had been arguing, whenever some infraction had caused her back to feel the sting of the strop, when the bombs were coming to close to their London home, it had been to Chummy that she had run. Strong, unflappable Chummy. It pained her to see her so wounded.

"You really love him, don't you?" She asked at last.

Chummy nodded, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.

"Then it will work out as it's supposed to."

Chummy didn't ask how she knew. She just accepted the comfort that was being offered.

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It was half past eleven when Sister Evangelina stole into her room with barely a knock.

"Ms. Braddocks on Isle of Dogs is in labor, none of the others are here and I can't leave Sister Monica Joan. You'll have to go," she said, rousing Rose form sleep.

"I'm to go alone?" She hadn't been sent out alone yet.

"No choice. Now get out of bed, we can't lie around like pampered princesses here," Sister Evangelina barked. "Get dressed and wait for Constable Noakes on the steps."

"Constable Noakes? Why?"

"Ms. Braddocks is an employee of the Red Dog," Sister Evangelina said. "So unless you wish to march into a brothel on your own, I suggest you get down there and meet your chaperone."

"Yes, Sister." Why did it have to be Constable Noakes? Rose quickly dressed and gathered her supplies.

A black squad car was waiting for her when she stepped outside.

"All set?" Peter asked.

"As all set as one can be to go to a house of ill repute in the dead of night," she replied.

"It not so bad, really," he said as he started towards the Isle of Dogs. "As far as brothels go."

"And do you often frequent brothels to be a judge of what is 'so bad'?" She said cruelly.

If it offended him, he didn't let his profession demeanor slip. "Quite the opposite, actually. I tend to make that judgment based on the lack of times I've had to go there."

"Really." She stared out the window into the darkness.

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	4. Chapter 4

Peter saw her through the saloon of the brothel. "Once you are done, tell the chambermaid and she will come get me to walk you out," he said. "Don't come down here without me, or Mitchell." He pointed at the barman.

"Thank you," Rose said, surprised that she meant it. She looked around at the clientele and wasn't sure that she would have had the guts to walk in there without a bobby. She still wished it had been any other policeman in Poplar, but she was grateful for his presence none the less.

She followed the chambermaid to a small room in the back of house, steeling herself for what she might find. She had never delivered a baby completely on her own. She had delivered a few all herself, but always with one of the sisters there or instructors in training, ready to step in if she messed up.

She still wasn't ready for the sight that greeted her eyes. The girl lying on the bed couldn't have been more than sixteen.

"Thank goodness you're 'ere," an older woman sitting in the room declared. "She's been 'ollering to beat the band. I told 'er that that baby was comin' out regardless to if you Nonnatuns showed up."

"Well, maybe one can make that eventuality a little more pleasant," Rose smiled.

"Well, aren't we little miss 'oity toity," the woman mocked. "You don't even look old enough to be a midwife." She turned to the girl on the other bed. "They done sent you a dud. Bet she don't even know which end it'll be comin' out of." She laughed but the girl looked terrified.

Rose stood up tall, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. "Excuse me, but do you intend to be of assistance?"

"Not on your life, Missy. She can do this by 'erself, just like she got 'erself in this fix," the woman snapped.

"Yes, well, I might be a dud, but even I know she didn't do this by herself. Now, since we have established that I know more than you, could you _please leave,_" Rose said, holding open the door.

"You won't be hearin' nothin' else from me," the woman said, bumbling out.

"I can't believe you done that," the girl said, grinning. "Rosie thinks she owns this place."

"Oh, dear Lord, you mean to say I share a name with that ghastly beast?" Rose said. "Rose Browne."

"Mary Braddocks."

"Okay, Mary, how long have you been having the pains?"

"Since lunch. I couldn't even come down for the afternoon," she said. "I wanted to call earlier, but Rosie wouldn't let me."

"Well, let's get you all set up and I'll examine you and see where we are," Rose said. She couldn't believe that room had been cleared for home delivery.

Two hours later, Rose was changing the bed when she felt Mary touch her legs.

"Alright, there?" Rose asked, afraid she had done something to hurt her.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. You have silk stockings," Mary said, shyly.

Rose blushed. She had listened to Chummy about not wearing her 'fancy' things in Poplar, but they were the only stockings she had and she hadn't been able to pop around to the market to get nylon ones.

"Did your feller buy them for you? Rosie and them talk about how during the war, fellers paid them with stockings. I've never had any. Rosie just says to draw lines on my legs and no one will know the difference," Mary rattled on. "Not like the men here even seem notice if I'm here much less if I have me stockings on."

"Um., no. My mother," Rose replied, unsure what to say to the rest of her statement.

"My folks are dead," Mary said. "That's 'ow I came to be here. My sister said I could come and live with 'er, and I did for a bit, but me brother-in-law, 'e was always tryin' to grab things that didn't belong to 'im, if you know what I mean, so I just decided that if I was gonna hafta put up with a man in my bed uninvited, I might as well be gettin' paid for it and I wouldn't hafta to deal wit' bein' anyone's poor relation, either. I lit for the docks and Mitchell hired me straight away."

"Mary, what are you going to do now that you have a baby?" Rose asked, seriously.

"The Catholic sisters are comin' for it," she replied. "I 'ave nothin' against your Nonnatus nuns, but I'm a Catholic girl."

Twenty minutes later, Mary delivered a healthy boy. When Rose tried to hand him to her, she turned away.

"No. It'll be easier if I don't have to see 'im," Mary said. "But 'e is good, isn't 'e? "E's healthy?"

"He's perfect," Rose replied.

Before she could finish up with Mary, there was a knock on the door. She opened it a crack. Two Nuns in black habits were standing there.

"Has it been born, then?" the older one asked.

Rose looked at Mary. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this."

"Look around, ma'am, would you want to raise your boy in a place like this," Mary said, sadly.

With a heavy heart, she handed the baby over to the women.

"Must be one of Julienne's whelps," the older one said. "They always think they know everything."

Rose finished delivering the afterbirth and cleaning everything up, helping Mary into a new gown, before telling her that someone would look in on her in a few hours.

"At least I gave 'im a good start, didn't I, Nurse Rose?" Mary asked.

Rose had her hand on the door, the desperation in the girl's voice stopped her. She turned to look at her.

"Yes, Mary. You gave him a wonderful start, Love," she said, kindly. Without another thought she put her bag down, sat on the one chair in the room, and pulled off her stockings. She could only imagine what Mater would say, to see her giving her silks away to a common whore. She put her shoes back on before she could change her mind. "Here I know it doesn't make up for things, but now you have a real pair of stockings."

"Really? You mean, I can really 'ave them?" Mary asked taking them in her hand. "They're so soft. I've never 'ad anything so nice."

"Yes. You deserve them," Rosie replied.

"One day," Mary said, her face momentarily shining with hope. "I'm going to meet me a rich man to take me away from all this. Then I'll wear silk stockings, white gloves, and a touch me not expression like yours. Then I'll give my stockings to a girl who doesn't have any too." She pulled a necklace off her neck. "Here. I want you to have this. You've treated me as good as kin. It's not real. The beads are just glass, but it's pretty all the same." She pressed the necklace in Rose's hand.

Rose knew better than to refuse them. "Thank you, Mary. They are beautiful."

She left the room, desperate to get away. That's why she forgot all about Peter's warning not to go into the saloon without him by her side. She was three steps into the room when she literal ran into a wall of a man.

"Well, now, Love, where you headed in such an 'urry?" The broad chest man said, grabbing her arm.

"I.., I'm sorry. I'm just on my way out," she said, remembering Peter's warning. She looked around frantically for the barman.

"Why not stick around for a while?" he asked.

"Please, let me go," she demanded trying to pull her arm away.

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	5. Chapter 5

Peter saw the Catholic sisters leave with the baby. That was usually the sign that things were just about through. When Roseanna hadn't called for him an hour later, he decided to go in and have a word with Mitch to see if anything untoward had happened during the delivery.

He walked up to the bar. "Hey, Mitch. What's going on upstairs?"

The barman, a native of Poplar, looked up, realization washing over his face. "Awe.., shite, Pete. I forgot all about it. I saw the Sisters come and go a while ago. I thought you and your girl were long gone."

Peter looked toward the stairs to see Rose surrounded by three men, one was holding on to her arm.

* * *

"Please, let me go."

The 'demand' sounded weak and pitiful, even to her own ears.

"What's you name, Sweetheart?" The sailor asked.

Roseanna stood up to her full five feet, seven inches and held her head high. "Unhand me, sir," she said in her coldest voice.

He laughed. "Does 'at really work on fellows? You just a little mite of a thing. What do you think you can do to me if I don't?"

She heard Constable Noakes before she saw him.

"What she can't do, I can," he said, removing the man's hand from her arm.

Rose didn't wait to see what happened next, once her arm was free, she pushed her way out of the saloon.

The sailor swung at Peter, but he easily sidestepped the blow and used the man's momentum to force him back into his seat.

"We don't have a problem right now," Peter said, sternly. "But if you continue in this line, we will. Now what will it be?" He looked around at all three men.

"No, Constable. We don't 'ave a problem," the man said at last.

"Good." He straightened his tunic and followed Rose out of the bar.

He had hoped she would have gone to the squad car, but couldn't stop the roll of his eyes when she was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Once out of the saloon, Rose's feet had moved of their own accord. She had begun to run. Away from the men, away from the smell, away from the pitiful girl who believed that she would meet a rich man in a brothel. She was forced to stop at the end of the pier where she fell to her knees and let most of her meals that day go into the Thames.

That was where Peter found her. He had been furious at her for not listening to him, and had had half a mind to go straight back to Nonnatus and tell the Nuns of the danger she had put herself in so that they would have her back on the first train to Medeira, but when he saw the crumpled, sobbing girl, his heart softened. Camilla didn't talk much about her past, but he knew enough to know that places like the Red Dog didn't exist in the world she and Rosie had grown up in.

He sat down beside her, handing her his handkerchief, then wrapped his cloak about her shoulders, her red cardigan no match for the unusually chilly night.

She wiped her eyes and looked at him, only to start sobbing again.

Peter was at a loss. He wasn't the type of man to shy away from a crying woman; there wasn't a woman that came into the station house that wasn't crying for some reason or another. However, given their few interactions, he wasn't sure a friendly pat on the back would be welcome or make things worse. After a long moment, he finally asked.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I hate Catholic Nuns," was the unexpected answer.

"Well, tell Sister Evangelina that an' she'll love you for life," he replied with a smile.

Rosie's laugh choked out her sobs and she actually smiled at him before looking back at the water.

"Why are you being nice to me?" She asked.

"Just doing my job," he replied. "Seeing you safely back to Nonnatus."

"No, you're not. Making that lughead let go of me, that was your job, though if one had listened to your instructions in the first place, that wouldn't have been necessary, but this," she said. "This is, how do they say, above the call of duty. I've been absolutely horrid to you."

"What would I gain for being cruel to you?" he asked, softly.

She shrugged. "Satisfaction that one is so weak that being confronted with life outside of one's alabaster walls turns them into a sobbing mess?"

"That sort of satisfaction is of no interest to me," he replied.

She pulled to cloak closer around her. "You must think I'm pathetic. Poor little rich girl crying over being grabbed when those girls, most younger than me in there…,"

"Those girls give the men permission to.., grab them. You didn't. As far as what I'm thinking. The only I'm wondering what happened in yours and Camilla's childhood that makes it so hard for you to accept kindness for the sake of kindness."

"Catholic Nuns."

They shared a smile.

"Do you really love my sister?" Rose asked, after a minute of silence.

Peter was taken aback at the frankness of the question, but decided that honest was the only way to go. "Yes, I love her very much."

"She loves you too." She stared into the water, the conversation turning more intimate than she was used to. "In lots of ways, Chummy was the only kindness the boys and I knew growing up. She took care of us and if a man like you wants to take care of her now, one doesn't see a bad thing in that."

"A man like me?"

"One who is kind, simply because he can be," she replied. "One supposes one had best get back."

Peter stood up, picking up her bag, and helping her to her feet.

When they pulled up to Nonnatus house, she handed him back his cloak and asked, "The scene on the pier, would it be too much to ask for one to keep that between us? One fears Sister Evangelina is just looking for a reason to toss one out on one's rear end and if she thinks one might fall apart in front of a patient, she will have it."

"Secret's safe with me," he replied with a twinkle in his eye, "though don't forget to tell her about the Catholic nuns if one fears she's getting too close to putting you out."

"Thank you, Constable." She smiled.

"You're welcome, Nurse Browne."

* * *

The next day, Rosie found Chummy once again in the Chapel, this time talking to Jenny.

"Don't tell me you are thinking about taking the veil," Jenny accused. "Chummy, I came to Nonnatus to escape a bad relationship with a man I couldn't have, but I didn't escape anything, and neither will you. Nothing is stopping you from being with Peter."

"You don't know Mater."

"But I do," Rosie interrupted, sitting down in front of Chummy. "I know Mater as well as you do now. And you can't live your life based on Mater wants."

"What are you talking about?" Chummy replied, aggravated. "You don't even like Peter."

"That's not exactly true," Rosie said. "It's more that one doesn't know Peter, but what I do know, I like. But it doesn't matter if I like him; it doesn't matter if the boys like him, or if Mater and Papa like him. All that matters is that you love him and he loves you. And I think he really does. You helped me find the courage to go to America, when Mummy disagreed. You helped Jamie stand up to them for career he wanted. You gave Jonathan the nerve to tell them that he was leaving Barrister's school, and Jacob to refuse the marriage Mother wanted for him. Now, one needs to use that courage for oneself. If you want to be with Constable Noakes, then be with him, Sissy. And if Mummy doesn't like it…, well, you leave her to me. You are not the only one who knows how to make the old bat happy."

Rosie was in the treatment room, helping ready delivery packs as Chummy battled once again with Mater over her wedding plans.

"You may take me to Norman Hartnell and buy me a skirt suit," Chummy said into the receiver. "Preferably crimplene."

After another pause, a mischievous grin flitted across Chummy's face. "Sorry, Mater. No longer entitled." She hung up the phone and practically danced back into the treatment room.

"Entitled to what?" Rose asked.

"Wear white," she replied.

Rose started snickering, realizing essentially what she had told their mother. "Sissy, you're my hero. Just wait till one tells the boys."

"Don't you dare!" Chummy cried.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

The morning of Chummy's wedding came without fanfare and true to her word, Rose left Chummy in the capable hands of Trixie and Jenny while she entertained Mater far from Chummy's room.

"One had hoped Papa would come with you today," Rose said, after settling Mater in her bedroom with a cup of tea. "I haven't seen him in ever so long and I'm sure it's been even longer since he saw Chummy."

"Your father wants nothing to do with this disaster of a marriage," Lady Browne answered.

"Mummy, just what is so bad about Peter? "I mean, he doesn't have a title, so what?" Rose asked. "He's a nice guy and he adores Chummy."

"You are too young to understand, Dear, but nice and adoration doesn't pay bills. How will he be able to take care of her in the manner to which she is accustomed?"

"He has a good job, with plenty of opportunity to make it a better job. He's a police constable. " Rose replied. "You act like he's a vagrant."

"He may not be a vagrant, but he is common," she replied. "And now I'm to understand that," her voice dropped in volume, "they've already been _intimate_," her voice raising back to normal volume. "No doubt he took advantage of her."

Rose laughed. "No, Mummy. I doubt that very seriously. Actually, I know that he did not."

"I didn't raise my girls to _fornicate _outside of marriage," Lady Browne said. "Especially not with trash."

She put her lipstick down and turned from her dressing table to look at her mother. "And what bothers you the most about that, Mummy? That Camilla had sex? Or that he's common? Would one be so offended if she had screwed Mr. Welchshire instead?"

All said she wasn't too surprised by the slap across the face she received for the comment.

"You will not speak to me in such a way," Lady Browne said, striding out of the room. "I think I will take my tea in the garden."

* * *

"Mater, it's time to go to the church," Chummy said.

"I'd like a word first, Camilla."

"Yes, Mater?"

"Your father and I want you to know, you don't have to do this," she said. "You can come back home. Even if you are…, in a delicate condition from your dalliance, Mr. Welchshire would still be willing to marry you."

"_Mater!"_ Chummy exclaimed. "I am NOT in a delicate condition. That's not why I'm marrying Peter. I love him. And of course Mr. Welchshire would still be willing to marry me. He's desperate for someone to raise those heathens of his."

"Well, in that case, if you go through with this union, then you are cut off," Lady Browne continued. "See if your bobby still wants you without your trust funds."

Chummy looked at her mother seeing her clearly for a moment. "Thank you, Mater. For clarifying that you think that the only reasons a man would ever want marry me would be because either I'm pregnant or because he wants my money. As for which, you are most welcome to keep it. Peter and I can take care of ourselves just fine."

"Oh, you'll see Camilla, this life here may seem romantic now, but years of never having enough of anything, working your fingers to the bone, being tied to a man who can't even provide without your help, will wear thin and then you will be trapped," Lady Browne said. "If you make this bed, you will lie in it."

"With pleasure, Mummy," Chummy smiled. "Now, I'm going to join the girls and walk to the church. You can come or you can leave. Whichever you choose."

"Don't be so dramatic, dear. At least your sister has the good sense to make a good match. Lord Fenton is a wonderful man." Lady Browne said, following Chummy outside.

* * *

Sorry for the short chapter! The next will be longer I hope.


	7. Chapter 7

"Did you see the grand lady off then?" Sister Evangelina asked as Rosie came into the kitchen for supper.

"Yes, ma'am. Mater will spend the night at the Dorchester, then back to Madeira until Christmas," Rosie replied with a giggle. "If we're lucky."

"Why didn't any more of your family come?" Jenny asked.

Rosie shrugged. "Mater said Pa wouldn't come and the boys, well, Jamie is in the Army and Jonny is in the RAF. Neither could get leave in time and Lord only knows where Jake is. He works for Pa. Maybe in India again. I haven't seen Papa in forever and ever. I wish he'd have come. He is usually more sensible than Mater. Even if he doesn't approve of Peter, he would see that we do good work here. I was surprised Gran didn't show up though. Chummy is her favorite pet, though both would deny it. If she had known, she would have been here come hell or high water. Sorry, Sisters," she covered her mouth in embarrassment. "She's the one who taught Chummy how to sew and me how to cook. She said we needed at least one skill with which to impress our mother-in-laws, and all that fancy pants boarding school would teach us was how to be catty little gossips."

"You have brothers?" Trixie asked, interestedly.

"Triplets. They're the reason Chummy is so good with the Cub scouts. She's been running roughshod over rowdy boys since she was 4."

"She does seem to have that authority of an older sibling," Sister Julienne said.

"Well, Ayah was always in over her head with the lot of us, but Chummy could make us quake in our shoes," Rosie laughed. "Ayah, she would do most anything to keep us quiet. She would dress me head to toe before ever waking me up and she let the boys eat nothing but treacle sponge. When we came back to London, we were the most spoiled, useless lot there was. The first day, I stood on my bed and screamed for hours for Ayah. Finally, Chummy came in and told me, 'Do shut up. Ayah is in India and you are in England. She won't hear you.' I then told her, 'Well, I hate England!' and she said, 'If you keep up that bally racket, then England hates you, too.' It was the first harsh word she had ever said to me. I was so shocked I quit screaming and followed her around like a little lost puppy the rest of the day."

"Well, it was a beautiful ceremony," Sister Julienne said, turning to the other Nuns. "Ladies, it is time for evening prayers."

After the Nuns left, Trixie looked at Rose with that twinkle in her eyes. "So, tell us, the blue dress, was there any reason for it beyond annoying your mother?"

"Of course," Rose replied, leaning in as though she were about to tell a juicy secret. "Chummy looks ghastly in white.

* * *

"Chummy Browne, is that you?"

Chummy was leaving Nonnatus for the day, her mind on what she was going to try to cook for supper. She wanted to try to make it home before Peter. She loved being married, she just wasn't that good at it, she thought. She burned more food than she cooked, forgot to dust the mantle, and didn't know how to do laundry. Peter told her those things didn't matter. That he didn't care if the mantle was dusty and that they could send their clothes out to be washed, and he'd managed to eat before their wedding day without her cooking, he figured they could make it on meals out a while longer. But Chummy wanted to do those things. She wanted to prove to herself more than anyone that she could do them.

"Excuse me?" She looked at the tall stranger, trying to place him.

"Ash. Asher Fenton," he said.

"Oh, bally yes, sorry, it's been a long day," Chummy blushed. "Isn't it Lord Fenton, now?" She accepted his perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

"Yes. Grandpa died a few months ago," he answered. "Lady Browne told me that Roseanna was working here, but she didn't mention you."

"Mater isn't big on mentioning things if she can avoid it," Chummy answered, shortly. She had forgotten Mater's speaking of Rose dating him. He certainly hadn't changed since the last time she saw him.

"Speaking of Roseanna, where is she?"

"Just inside. Where are you two off to tonight?"

"I am taking her to the Dorchester for supper," he said. "Bloody embarrassing really. Our mothers arranging it and all. It puts me in mind of those Eton dances where the teachers would pair us off by height."

Chummy had hated those dances. No one was ever her height, so it was either dance with some boy whose eyes were level with her breast or sit in a corner and pretend not to exist while her 'date' desperately tried to find a polite way to leave. She always volunteered to serve food or decorate or some other way to get out of dancing. Truthfully, those dances ended with most of the boys on one side of the floor and the girls on the other as pair off by height rarely led to true love. "Those bally things," she replied. "They were always the debacle."

"They were," he smiled.

"Camilla."

Chummy turned to see Peter coming towards her. Her face lit up with a genuine smile. "What-ho, Peter," she called. "I wasn't expecting you yet."

He met her on the steps. "I got off early and thought we might walk home together."

"Peter, this is Lord Fenton," she said, introducing Asher.

"Please, Chummy, I'm still just Ash," he interrupted.

"Asher Fenton," she continued. "Asher, this is my husband, Peter Noakes."

Asher gave Peter a once over before shaking his hand. "Husband? Good show, Chums! But I do see what you mean by Lady Browne's ability to _not_ mention things. Nice to meet you."

Chummy thought she noted a hint of superciliousness in his voice, but dismissed it as being too sensitive. She took Peter's arm.

"Likewise." Peter replied.

"Ash is taking Rosie out to supper," Chummy explained.

"Speaking of which, I'd best crack on," Ash said. "I may have had a date arranged by height, but it's no excuse for one to be rude. Nice to see you, Chummy." He walked up the remainder of the steps to ring the bell.

She watched him for a moment, trying to quell the feeling of trepidation. Just because she had never fit into that society didn't mean that Roseanna didn't.

"To what do I owe this honor," she asked Peter teasingly. "I had hoped to make it home before you and start supper."

"I thought I might take my beautiful wife out for supper," he replied.

"Oh, that would be very sweet, if one didn't know that their husband was just trying to avoid to eating one's cooking," she laughed.

Peter looked contrite but didn't try to deny it. "Do you really want to go home and cook?" If she did, he would be happy to eat whatever she came up with, no matter how if came out.

"No," she confessed. "The truth of it is fish and chips and then a nice hot bath sounds wonderful."

"I think that can be arranged," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "Date arranged by height?"

"Long story," she laughed. "I'll tell over supper."

"Or in the bath?"

"Peter!"

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

"Hello, Roseanna, I'm Asher. Asher Fenton." He shook her hand warmly. "My mother said you were a lovely girl, but I had no idea you would be so beautiful."

The sound of giggling erupted in the kitchen.

Rose turned and glared at the kitchen doorway. She could just hear the whisper of Sister Bernadette's habit across the floor as she and Trixie flattened themselves further against the wall. It was always that that gave them away in their eavesdropping attempts.

"Thank you, Lord Fenton," she replied.

"Please call me Ash or Asher," he replied, waving away the title. "I thought we might have supper at the Dorchester then maybe see a picture?"

"That sounds lovely," she said. "Just let me get my wrap."

Ash nodded nervously at the older, dour nun standing at the door seeming intent to watch their every move.

Sister Evangelina returned the nod, but not the smile, as she sized Asher up. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something a little off about the polished up, pretty boy. He seemed a little too slick with his line about Rosie's beauty. A little too rehearsed and she didn't like it or him one bit. Really, what was wrong with a nice East End boy like Constable Noakes? She remembered the way he had hardly been able to put two words together to Chummy before she had intervened and asked Chummy out for him.

"Nurse Browne, do you need a chaperone?" she said gravely. It had been half a joke when she asked Jenny the same thing a few months earlier but this time there was no humor in the statement.

Rosie smiled. "No, thank you, Sister. I'm sure I'll be fine. Lord.., I mean, Asher wouldn't dream of having me out past curfew, right, Asher?"

"Ten o'clock on the dot," he replied, flashing that slick smile again. He tucked Rosie's hand in his arm. "Ready to go?"

She nodded and let him lead her out the door. Sister Evangelina closed it behind them shaking her head.

* * *

The first time Chummy saw her, she thought nothing of it. The young woman talking to Peter as he and his partner, Nigel stood on East India Dock Road. She was very animated, flipping her red ponytail back and forth. But then, who wasn't very animated when talking to police? Chummy waved as she passed him, too busy to stop and talk. Marie Rodgers was in labor with her first and the way Senior Mrs. Rodgers and Marie's mother were behaving, you'd think no one had ever had a baby before. She and Rosie rushed on around the corner.

"So, how was the big date?" Chummy asked as they unloaded their bags from their bikes.

Rose shrugged. "He's nice. He asked me out again this weekend. I told him I wouldn't be able to leave the district this weekend, but if he wanted, he could come with Trixie, Jenny, and I to the dance at the parish hall. He said he would. Do you and Peter want to come along? I think Jenny is bringing Jimmy."

Chummy shook her head. "Peter is on nightshifts this weekend."

"Boo. That stinks. You come anyway," she replied.

She shook her head again. "I'll probably just spend the weekend catching up on chores at home. Or maybe I'll take first call for Cynthia so she can go to the dance."

"Oh, don't be a boring married woman now, Sissy. You know Peter won't care if you come with," Rosie wheedled. "Besides, I don't think you could wrestle first call from Cynthia this weekend. It gives her an ironclad excuse not to give in to Trixie's begging her to go to the dance."

"_There you two are," _Mrs. Rodgers senior called from the upstairs window. "_Don't dawdle out there, chitchatting when our Marie needs you! Sister Julienne will hear about this!"_

Rosie rolled her eyes at Chummy as they headed upstairs.

* * *

Chummy met up with Rosie and the other girls on the steps of Nonnatus house. She had gotten off work at five and hurried home and had a quick supper with Peter before he had to be at work.

"Have fun," he said, giving her an awkward kiss as they stopped in front of Nonnatus house. "I'll see you in the morning."

"OHOH! CAMILLA FORTESCUE-CHOMELEY-BROWNE," Trixie called out, playfully. "Kissing in front of a convent. I'm pretty sure you could go to hell for that."

"I no longer answer to that name," Chummy shot back, though her face was turning red. "And one is fairly certain that one doesn't go the hell just for kissing one's husband in front of a convent, since the first thing one does as a married woman is kiss in church."

"Bloody good point," Trixie conceded. She linked her arm through Chummy's. "Looks like we are the only ones without dates. So I suggest we band forces and set off together. Leave the lovers to walk alone," she giggled, pulling Chummy away from Peter.

"Goodbye," Chummy waved, being propelled towards East India Dock Road by Trixie. Peter waved and turned around to head to the station house for start of shift.

Rosie waited on the steps, about to lose hope as Jimmy and Jenny walked off before her. They had offered to wait, but that seemed pathetic to her. She squealed in delight when finally saw Asher walking towards Nonnatus house.

She went down to meet him.

"Hello, Roseanna," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting long. Traffic was mad. My driver had to let me out a few blocks away."

"It does get pretty backed up when the docks close," Rose said. "But no matter, you are here now."

"I told you I would be," he smiled. She led him towards the parish hall but he stopped her before they were in front of it. "Wait, Roseanna, there's something I've been dying to do for the last three days."

"What is it?"

"This." He brushed a kiss across her lips.

Rosie accepted his soft kiss, but when he pulled her closer to deepen it, she pushed away. "So sorry," she apologized. "I would love to, but, midwife reputation has to be above reproach and all. There are those around who would think kissing in the street to not be the polite thing to do."

"No, my apologies," he replied. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with the sisters. It's just that I have been thinking of nothing else but you since we went to dinner."

Rosie smiled. "Thank you for understanding."

"Is there anywhere we can be alone for a moment?" He asked mischievously.

She was taken aback at first then grinned and pulled him to a darkened doorway in the alley next to hall, returning his kisses with passion, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pressed her against the wall.

When they finally made it to the dance ten minutes later, muttering apologies about traffic and all, Chummy noticed Rose's lipstick was slightly smeared. She started to admonish her, then realized that was the same thing Mater would have done to her years ago. Instead, she said, "Tickety-boo that you made it," and just watched her sister's happy, is somewhat smudged smile as Asher disappeared with Jimmy to get everyone drinks.

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	9. Chapter 9

Chummy was exhausted by the time she got home. She had been up since 4:30 when she had been called out to assist Sister Evangelina with a birth on Rainer Street. She would have begged off going to the dance with Rosie and the girls, if they hadn't been so persistent that she go. She was happy she did, now that it was over. At least, it killed a few hours before Peter would be home. Being alone was the biggest change that she had to get used to with being married. She hated going home to Peter's flat when he was working nightshifts. She had never spent a night completely alone before he started his nightshift rota after their honeymoon. Her parents' houses were always full. Servants were there even when everyone else was scattered to the winds. Then she had gone to Roedan, and living in the dorms was never quiet. Then nurse's quarters at the hospital were always full. One always had a chum one could talk to or share a cuppa with. And of course, Nonnatus house had been the best. The girls there had always included her in their chats and evening Horlicks and whatever Mater's plans had been when sending Rosie there, it had made it the best thing ever. The two sisters had never spent more than a fortnight together as adults before then and with all the extra time they finally had the close relationship Chummy had always dreamed of having with her sister. Sharing secrets over hot chocolate in each other's bedrooms at night, laughing over shared memories, helping each other through problems, Mater had finally given Chummy something she'd always wanted. If it wasn't for the fact that she would get to see Peter, however briefly, before she headed off to work and him to bed, she would have just stayed at Nonnatus for the night. She hoped it would be better when they could move into their new house in a few weeks. She felt safe enough, all the other boarders were policemen and two firemen, but it was lonely as the only other woman there was the landlady. A cockney woman of about sixty who had made it clear she was scandalized that Chummy had kept her job at Nonnatus house.

She pulled her keys out of her coat, thinking only of piping hot cup of Horlicks then slipping into bed.

"Wotcher, Miss. Tha's Peter Noakes flat, in'it?"

Chummy was so startled that she dropped her key.

The redheaded woman she had seen earlier in the week with Peter and Nigel was in the foyer of the building.

"I'm sorry. Can I help you?" Chummy asked, shocked to see anyone there so late.

"Tha's Peter Noakes flat in'it?" The girl asked again.

"Yes. It's our flat. Peter is my husband," Chummy answered, confused. "Can I help you?" she asked again.

"'Usband? Never mind. I needa see Peter," the woman said.

"He's at work," she answered, quite put off.

"I knows that, I been to the station, ain't I? They says he was on the beat, but they wouldna' tell me where. I'm waitin' here for 'im."

"He won't be home tonight," Chummy said. "If you need the police.."

"I don't need the bloody police, I need Peter," the woman exploded.

For once Chummy drew on all her West End upbringing and boarding school manners experience. She drew herself up tall, lifting her chin, and looking down her nose at the younger woman. "Well," she said coldly. "Like I said, he isn't here. You should leave."

"Never mind. I'll find 'im meself." The woman grabbed her coat and flounced out.

Chummy tried to put it out of her mind and rest, but the whole confrontation had left her feeling rather unsettled.

* * *

"And you didn't ask him who she was first thing when he came in this morning?" Rose demanded as Chummy relayed the story to her as they were packing delivery packs.

"I couldn't," she replied. "There was a fight in the Master's Arms last night and he was all in. He was too tired to even eat breakfast. I didn't want to bother him about something so silly."

"That's not silly, Sissy," Rose said. "It's not like you were complaining about a window that sticks or a clogged drain. She came to your house. What's to say she won't be back tonight? You need to talk to Peter and he needs to talk to her. What's her name?"

"One didn't even think to ask," she replied.

"I suppose it also did not occur to you to ask how she knew where Peter lived either," Rose said. "Tell Peter this evening. She could be some crazy for all one knows."

"Well, there's a cheerful thought," Chummy said. "I haven't seen him but maybe an hour this whole week. We always seem to be passing each other on the way in and out. One doesn't want to talk of unpleasant things in the little time we do have together."

Rosie sighed. "There is a difference between telling him a crazy woman is looking for him and talking about unpleasant things. One doesn't have to be a doormat to avoid confrontation. When does he have a night off?"

"Tomorrow."

"And you have first call here," she said.

Chummy nodded. It would never occur to her to ask Sister Julienne for a different shift. She had always taken the shifts no one else wanted.

"No," Rosie said, determinedly. "You are going to take my call shift tonight and I'll take yours tomorrow. That way you can have more than an hour to get to the bottom of the mystery woman."

"And what will Lord Fenton think of this change in plans?"

"Ash will understand. He'll just have to, but if you come back here Monday and tell me that you chickened out, I'll bally strangle you," she said.

"Thanks, Rosie-poley." Chummy said, relieved.

* * *

"She came by here?" Peter asked, listening to Chummy's tale.

"She did. You know her? How does she know where you live?"

Peter sighed and took a drink of his whiskey. "Her name is Delores."

"Your ex?" Chummy became even more alarmed.

"No, Camilla, not that Delores. Delores Whittaker. Her parents live next door to mine when we were growing up. She had a brother, Tommy, who was Michael's age. She's younger. She was still a kid when he and I went to Germany. He…, he didn't…, he didn't come home," Peter explained. "Her parents went to tuberculosis not long after the war ended. She moved in with an Aunt a few blocks away, but Michael and I have sort of looked after her since then. She came to talk to me a few days ago. She said her husband was hitting her again. I told her I couldn't help her unless she wanted to press charges, but she doesn't want to do that."

"Then what does she want?"

"A few years ago, before I joined the force, he beat her up pretty bad. She was in hospital for a few days. Michael and I went and…, _talked_ to him. She got out of the hospital and went right back to him even though Mom and Dad offered to take her in," he said. "I think she wants us to do that again, but I've already told her, I can't help her like."

* * *

"So, who do you think she is?" Trixie asked as news of Chummy's visitor had spread through the nurses with the change in the rota. The nurses were at the kitchen table, playing rummy and enjoying Mrs. B's coconut cake while the Sisters were in Compline.

"One doesn't know, but she's awfully bold," Rose said. "To go to his flat like that."

"I'm sure it's innocent," Cynthia said, uncomfortable to be gossiping about their friends. "Discard, Trixie."

"I agree with Rosie," Trixie said. "You don't go to a man's flat in the middle of the night for innocent reasons."

"Maybe she really did need his help as a Constable," Jenny replied. "Maybe she was afraid to go to the station."

"Only she went," Rose replied.

"Who went where?" Fred asked, from under the sink. He had been trying to fix the hot water to the kitchen sink.

"Chummy's or rather Peter's, mystery redhead," Trixie answered.

"What are you 'ens cacklin' about?" He took a break, pulling a chair up to the table.

The story was quickly relayed to him.

"Is she a little thing?" Fred asked. "Short," he held up his hand about five feet from the floor. "Long red hair, big…," he motioned to his chest.

"Fred!" Jenny exclaimed, scandalized.

"Yes," Rosie answered, unperturbed by Fred's description.

"Ah. That'd be Delores Whittaker," Fred said.

"Who is that? And why would she single out Peter?" Rose asked, interested.

"Because she knows she can get Peter to 'elp 'er, off the record like, because he feels guilty," Fred said, enjoying being the center of attention.

"Guilty of what?" Trixie asked.

"That 'e came 'ome from the war and 'er brother, Tommy didn't," he said.

"Peter's not old enough to have been in the war," Rose scoffed. "He's only a year older than Chummy and she was only fifteen when the war ended."

"'E would 'ave been if'n 'e stole 'is brother's notice and joined up at fifteen," Fred said. "Michael was in no shape to go and fight, so w'en 'is notice came, Peter stole it and joined up in 'is place."

"And no one noticed?" Jenny asked incredulously.

"Well, at tha' point, they weren't looking much further than if one could 'old a gun," Fred said, sadly. "They weren't gonna question a man willin' to fight."

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	10. Chapter 10

"Thank you so much for understanding my canceling our last date, Ash," Rosie said. They were on their 'make-up' date. He was taking her for an afternoon picnic in Hyde Park.

"One can't help when duty calls," he replied good-naturedly. "One is just happy that you could slip away today."

"Very happy," she replied. "This week has been brutal. One does believe that every child in Poplar was born in the last three days."

Ash chuckled, "Does it always happen like that?"

"No. We stay busy, but there are days where no one needs the midwives and only our regulars need nursing care," she said.

"Regulars?"

"We also take care of the district nursing rota. Sister Evangelina is in charge of that," she said.

"Sister Evangelina?"

"The one who makes sure we come home on time," Rosie explained with a grin.

"Oh, her." Ash laughed. "I don't think she likes me very much."

"She doesn't like anyone very much," Rosie replied with a laugh. "But the patients love her. And we do too. All the Sisters, really. It isn't at all what I thought it would be like to live in a nunnery. They aren't nearly so strict as they seem. Sister Julienne is way better than a house matron at any hospital."

"Do you really like it there?" he asked.

Rosie nodded. "I thought it would be dreadful, and sometimes it is, but mostly it's great. I've learned loads and I just love delivering babies."

"And if you were to marry?"

"I guess it would depend on who I married and where we lived," she shrugged. "I mean, Chummy still works with us and Peter doesn't mind. East End is always short for nurses, but one supposes that if one lived in area without such a great need, one wouldn't continue to work."

"And do you have any prospective husbands?" he teased, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Loads," she teased back. "But no one is as cute as you."

"Really?" He pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Truly," she smiled, allowing him the contact, happy to be away from the watchful eyes of East End.

"Does that mean you aren't going to marry some pathetic East Ender like Chummy did?"

She stopped smiling and tried to pull away. "That's a mean thing to say. Peter's not pathetic. He's nice. I quite like him." She struggled from his embrace. After a moment he let her go and not expecting it at that moment, she lost her balance and tumbled to the ground.

Ash was instantly apologetic. "Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry. One didn't mean for you to fall." He knelt beside her, examining her scraped hand. He wrapped his handkerchief around it and helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's get that cleaned up."

"I think I just want to go home, Asher," Rosie protested.

"No, please, no," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. Please don't go. I didn't mean anything against Chummy's husband and I certainly didn't mean for you to get hurt. Please stay."

Rosie finally relented.

Later that night, she was trying to clean her palm when Sister Evangelina saw her.

"What happened there?" Sister Evangelina asked, taking her hand and looking at it.

"I fell in the park. I cleaned it, but it's still bothering me," Rosie admitted.

"Eh…, there's still a pebble in it," Sister Evangelina answered. "Sit down and I'll get it out."

"Oh, that's okay…,"

"Nonsense," Evangelina interrupted. "We have to take care of ourselves as well as our patients." She retrieved a pair of tweezers and hydrogen peroxide. "Fell at the park, you said?"

"Yes ma'am. Tripped over one's on feet," she replied.

"And here I always thought it was your sister who was the clumsy one," Sister Evangelina observed.

"Rubbed off, I guess," she replied with a shrug.

"Indeed." She hoped she was wrong, but she had seen it too often. It pervaded every class, race, and religion. From the poorest East End slum to the highest aristocrat. The sorry excuses, the almost accidents, and in the end, the poor broken women. She smoothed a bandaged across the young woman's palm, saying a silent prayer that she was wrong. She wanted to say something, but she knew at this point with the girl so smitten and no real proof that it wasn't an accident, she would do better to talk to the wall. "There. Keep it clean and dry. Sign in desk tomorrow at clinic and no tending patients until it's healed. Can't have you out with an infection. Run along up to bed."

"Yes, Sister."

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	11. Chapter 11

"Noakes, your girlfriend is 'ere again," the desk officer called.

Peter smiled as he put on his helmet. He had hoped that Camilla would stop by. Clinic had run late and she hadn't made it home before he had left. He would be eternally glad to be off the wretched night rota in two weeks' time.

"Wife, you mean," he remarked as he walked toward the front duty desk.

"No, I mean girlfriend," the officer replied. "And it isn't 'er first time. She came in 'ere Friday night and threw a right fit when I wouldn't tell 'er what beat you were on."

"It's not Camilla?"

The officer shook his head and grinned knowingly. "Not even married a month and already found a beat wife as well. Lucky dog."

Peter groaned. He hated that term. Personally, he didn't find cheating on one's wife to be something to be joked about or cheered on. Not to mention he didn't have a clue who the man was going on about.

"Seriously, Noakes, tell 'er to lay off coming 'ere," the younger man said. "Sergeant's startin' to notice. It doesn't look good, especially for someone wantin' a good word for promotion."

Delores was sitting on the bench, looking around nervously.

"Peter," she got to her feet and met him at the desk. "I'm so glad you're not out this time. I really need ta talk to you."

"Hello, Delores," he replied. "I am working, so unless it's about a police matter, I can't talk right now."

"Well, when is your break?" she asked. "Maybe we could 'ave a cuppa and talk then? Please, Pete. I really need you."

"Alright," Peter gave in. "I should have a break about ten. If you want to talk, meet me in the diner by the docks on East India Road then."

"Thanks, I'll be there," she smiled. She grabbed her bag and headed out.

* * *

Peter drug his feet as much as possible about getting to the diner on time, hoping something would pop up to delay their break. He knew he needed to talk to Delores, if for no other reason than to tell her to stay away from the station house if she wasn't going to file charges on her husband. After asking around to a few of the officers he trusted not to make a joke of it, he had found out that with her coming around asking for him so frequently and getting upset when he wasn't there, it really did seem as if he was fooling around on the clock.

"Peter! You came." Delores jumped to her feet.

"Hello," he said quietly. He slid into the seat across from her. "Sit down."

She returned to her seat.

"Delores, you can't keep coming to the stationhouse," he said firmly. "Or my house. You gave Camilla quite a shock."

"Is that her name?" Delores replied. "You didn't tell me you were married."

"It's not a secret," he said. "We were married in All Saints church about a month ago."

"Well, no one told me."

"You haven't been around to tell."

"So, where did you meet Miss 'oity-Toity?" she asked.

"Camilla?" he laughed. "She is the least hoity-toity person there is. We didn't come here to talk about Camilla and me. I meant what I said; you can't come to the station asking for me. People are starting to notice and it's going to get me in trouble with the Captain."

"You would get in trouble for 'elping someone?" she challenged.

"If you don't want it handled as a police matter, then yes," he replied.

"I can't, Pete. Just as soon as 'e gets out, 'e'll be back for me."

"Leave. While he's in custody, pack up and go," he said.

"Go where? I 'ave nowhere. I thought I could come to you," she pleaded. "Can't you and Michael just go see 'im again? Get 'im to lay off?"

"I can't do that, Delores," Peter said. "I'm not that guy anymore."

"Because of her."

"Because I grew up," he shot back. "I have a family, a good job..; I can't lose that just to give Henry a taste of his own medicine. Especially, since it won't change anything. You'll just go right back to him."

"I ain't got no choice," she said.

"Not true. Mum and Dad will still let you stay with them till you get back on your feet," he said. "File a report, let us pick him up and while then get out there."

"I'm goin' to have a baby," she spit out.

That was the last thing she needed. Peter placed his hand over hers. "Please, Delores, go to Mum and Dad. You can't 'ave that baby there with him. What happens when he starts hitting them too?"

"So, you won't talk to him?"

"No. Not unless you want to file charges," Peter said.

Delores snatched her hand back, getting angry. "You're jealous," she declared, loudly. "You're jealous that I never wanted to be with you. If you won't 'elp I'll take care of 'im meself. You promised Tom you'd take care of me!" She grabbed her purse and stomped out.

Peter just let her go. There was no talking to her when she was like that. And he had promised Thomas, as he was dying, that they would look out for Delores.

* * *

Trixie, Jenny, and Rosie were walking back up East India Dock Road, having slipped out of Nonnatus house in search of a late night snack, giggling over their ice cream cones.

Trixie came to a dead stop. "Rosie, is that Peter?" she asked, peering into the small café.

"No," Jenny said, glancing in that direction.

"It bloody well is, and that's Miss Redhead!" Rosie cried, staring at the couple as Peter grabbed Delores' hand. "What the bloody hell is he doing? I will kill him if he hurts Sissy." She started to cross the road, but Jenny grabbed her arm.

"You can't go over there. You don't know what's going on," she said, reasonably.

"Jenny's right," Trixie declared. "Let's wait and see what happens."

"Let's let Chummy handle Chummy's life," Jenny interjected. "It's her business, not ours."

"It _is_ my business," Rosie insisted. "She's my sister. I love her."

"We all love Chummy," Jenny said. "Look, she's leaving anyway."

"And I'm going to talk to Peter," Rosie declared.

"No, you're not. Chummy won't like you getting in the middle of it," Jenny said.

"Have you met my family?" Rosie replied. "We're always in the middle."

"And maybe that's why she came to East End to get away from you all."

Rosie drew back from Jenny in shock and pain.

"Oh, that was harsh," Trixie said.

"And wrong," Rosie replied. She turned to walk away, only to find that Peter had left while she was arguing with Jenny. She shot Jenny a deadly glare then stalked off to Nonnatus house, leaving the other two ladies behind her.

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	12. Chapter 12

"Alright, spill," Chummy said. From the moment she had walked into kitchen, the other four nurses had become silent. Only the sound of forks clinking against china could be heard.

The others looked at each other nervously. Each one trying to will the others to speak first.

Finally Rose spoke up. "Sissy, last night…," she began. "Last night…,"

"Let me guess," Chummy interrupted with a mischievous grin. "Last night, you three," she pointed to Trixie, Rose, and Jenny. "Saw Peter in the East India diner with Delores Whittaker."

"You know?" Trixie gasped.

"Of course I do. Peter told me before I left this morning. I know everything. He saw the three of you as well. You lot aren't the most inconspicuous of spies. No need to worry about us or me. She is an old family friend and she's in an abusive marriage. Peter was trying to convince her leave her husband. Oh, and to quit coming to the station because some of the officers were suspecting the same thing you lot were," Chummy explained. "Unfortunately, it didn't go well."

"See, I told you it was innocent," Cynthia said with a smile.

"Quite," Chummy agreed then smiled. "But it does make one feel good that you all were so concerned for me."

* * *

"So, I take things are going well with you and the Baronet," Cynthia said as she set Rosie's curls.

"Baron, actually, and it's fantastic. I mean, okay, he can be a bit stuck up, but I was too before I came here," she answered.

"If you got married, you'd be a Baroness," Trixie giggled.

"I suppose one would be," Rosie answered. "However, we haven't talked about marriage. We've only been dating a short time."

"Oh, so if he were to ask you to marry him tonight, you would turn him down?" Jenny teased.

"Of course not! I'm not daft," Rosie laughed. "He's fabulous. It just hasn't come up."

"Well, he is taking you away this weekend," Trixie said. "Maybe it will _come up_ then."

"Chummy's right. You can make anything sound dirty," Rose replied. "You make it sound as though we are going to some den of iniquity. He's just escorting me to a wedding we have both been invited to."

"And staying overnight."

"Yes. Him in his quarters and me in my parents'. Real romantic I assure you." She checked her hair in the mirror. "Cynthia, it looks great. You should fix your hair like this for the dance this weekend. I have it on good authority that Nigel will be there."

"It would just go flat," she deflected shyly.

"But you would look gorgeous in the meantime. I'll do it for you before I leave," rose offered. "Oh, but drat. I have to go to The London tomorrow and Thursday. And I still have to get Chummy to hem my dress," she paused for a moment. "No problem, we will just do it at lunch break. Tickety-boo." She grabbed her bag off Trixie's bed. "I'm off. Perhaps it will _come up_ tonight."

"And I make things sound dirty," Trixie said with a grin.

* * *

Rosie was trying to pay attention and be charming during Ash's business dinner. She really was, but it had been a long day between being up at 5 to help Sister Evangelina with the morning insulin checks and injections, then her own morning rounds, and then clinic that afternoon. And the two glasses of red wine that Ash had poured for her wasn't helping her tired mind to focus.

"Lord Fenton tells me you are with the national health organization," Mr. Jackson said.

It took Rosie a second to realize that he was talking to her. Then to her horror when she opened her mouth to speak, she yawned instead. "Oh my," she gasped, covering her mouth in embarrassment. Just then Asher's hand clamped down on her knee like a vise, squeezing painfully. "I am so sorry," she said when he let go. "Yes, I am a nurse midwife. I am stationed in Poplar at Nonnatus House currently."

"No wonder you are tired. That's a busy district," Mr. Jackson said kindly before continued his conversation with Asher.

Roseanna could tell that Asher was mad as soon as they left the restaurant. She didn't know what to say or do to soothe his feelings, so she just stayed quiet.

"You know, if you can't be the proper hostess I need," he said, finally. "Then you should let me know before I waste my time driving out to Poplar to fetch you."

"To be fair, Ash, you didn't tell me I would be playing hostess this evening," Rosie replied.

"It was last minute. Changes had to be made. I know I don't have to tell you how important this deal is to me," he snapped.

"Then you should have told me that we were going to a business dinner," Rose snapped back.

"I expect my wife to be able to be ready for these things!" he practically yelled.

"Well, I'm not your wife, I'm not even your fiancée, and if you keep yelling at me, I won't be your girlfriend either! And even if I was, I'd still expect a warning before I stepped into the room!"

Asher threw his hand up and she cringed, expecting a blow, but instead he put it softly on her neck. "You're right, Rosie. I'm sorry. I should have given you more warning and at least a chance to bow out. I just wanted to see you, but I had to meet with Mr. Jackson, so I thought…, never mind. It was wrong of me not give you some warning," he said. "Forgive me?" He cocked his head to the side and smile hopefully at her. "It's been a long day for us both."

"I forgive you. It has been a long day."

He stopped in front of Nonnatus house. "So, do I get a real kiss before I walk you to the door and get the 'the-nuns-are-watching' kiss?"

"Forget the nuns, that's the 'Trixie-is-watching' kiss," she laughed, letting him pull her into his arms and kiss her for probably longer than was decent.

* * *

The next day, Rosie examined her knee. There were four deep, dark blue bruises across it. One on the outside, three longer ones on the inside. Fingerprints. Surely he didn't mean to squeeze so hard. .Or to make her fall in the park. Or grab her wrist too hard that one time. Or twist her arm. Or pull her hair. She wasn't abused. It wasn't like he had ever hit her. Men like Asher didn't do that and ladies like her were not abused. That was for rough dockers and women like that Delores girl that Peter knew.

She pulled on her stockings and smoothed her dress down; thankful that it fell past her knees and that The London required their nurses in black stockings. She grabbed her bag and told herself that she was skipping breakfast to catch the bus uptown. Truthfully, though, it was because she didn't want to face anyone with questions about her latest date.

She almost made it, except for Sister Evangelina.

"Nurse Browne," she called just as Rosie had reached the door. "Can I see you for a moment?"

Since it wasn't really a question, Rosie reluctantly turned and went back to the treatment room.

"Yes, Sister?"

"Off to hospital today?"

"Yes ma'am. I've been seconded."

"Eh.., better you than me," Sister Evangelina remarked. "Had enough of those places during the wars."

"Is there anything else, Sister?"

Evangelina nodded. Since that first date, she had been paying closer attention to the young midwife. She had treated her hand, noticed the bruise around the wrist that Rosie had tried to hide with her cardigan sleeve. She had noticed when she seemed to favor her left arm and now the girl was walking like one trying to hide a limp. She couldn't stay silent and in good conscience any longer.

"Is everything alright with you?" She asked, gently. She placed a hand over Rosie's.

"Yes, Sister," Rosie smiled brightly. "Everything is going well."

"And with the new beau?"

"One of Mater's better ideas, one is happy to report. Why do you ask?" Rosie asked.

"Just checking," Sister answered. "You girls are our responsibility while you 'ere." Then she turned serious again, "If you ever need to tell us anythin', we are 'ere to help."

"Thank you, Sister. But everything is peachy-keen," Rosie replied, pulling her hand away. "I really must be going. Don't want to be late for roll call. And you don't want me telling the others you gone soft," she threw in teasingly as she ran to catch the bus.

* * *

"Sister, what is troubling you?" Sister Julienne asked. She had requested a moment with Sister Evangelina after Compline. She could tell the other lady had had something on her mind all day.

Evangelina sighed. She didn't want to be telling tales, but things weren't adding up and she finally thought she had the right of it.

"It's Nurse Browne, Sister," she answered. "I don't.., well, you know I ain't one to mince words, so 'ere's the long and short of it. I think that man is 'urting 'er."

"Lord Fenton?"

"That's 'im."

"I see," Sister Julienne replied. "Has she said anything to you?"

"She wouldn't. I ask her, but she said everythin' was 'peachy-keen'."

"And why do you feel this way?"

"Because even 'er sister isn't clumsy enough to come up with all the bumps and bruises Rosie's 'ad lately," Sister Evangelina replied.

Julienne nodded. She had noticed when Rosie was off the patient care roster for her hand. Then again, when Rosie seemed to favor her left side during a delivery but she hadn't thought much of it. Of course, Evangelina saw more of the girl since she was working on the district nursing rota more than the midwife rota lately.

"Well, if this was a girl in the community you were concerned about, what would you do?" She questioned gently.

"Speak to 'er mother, but I don't think I'd get anywhere with that ol' biddy. She set this relationship up," Evangelina replied.

"Well," Sister Julienne replied, trying to see the best in everyone. "No mother wants to see their child hurt. I doubt she knew this would happen. However, I wasn't thinking about Lady Browne. I was going to suggest you speak with Nurse Noakes."

"Hmm.., perhaps I'll try that. Though I have little more to go on than a gut feeling," Evangelina said.

"Do as you feel best, but your guts are rarely wrong," Julienne said, ending the conversation.

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	13. Chapter 13

It was the roses that convinced Sister Evangelina to request a quiet word with Nurse Noakes. A dozen long stem red roses and box of chocolates that sent the other girls squealing with delight but had Sister Julienne and her raising their eyebrows. That was a guilt gift if they had ever seen one.

"You wanted to see me?" Chummy said, standing in the doorway of Sister Evangelina's cell. She wasn't sure what exactly she had done to rate a visit there. Usually if there was a problem, Sister Julienne summoned you to her office. Or Sister Evangelina just chewed you out wherever she happened to see you at. Chummy couldn't recall anyone ever being invited or summoned, depending on how one looked at it, to a Sister's cell before.

"Yes," Sister Evangelina said, ushering her in and closing the door. The room was sparsely furnished. There was only a bed, a desk, a dresser, and a cross much like the one that hung in Chummy's old room. She motioned for Chummy to take the desk chair while she sat directly in front of her on the bed. "Nurse Noakes, Chummy, relax, I didn't call you hear to ball you out. I wanted to talk to you about Nurse Brown."

"What about her?" Chummy asked, confused.

"How well do you know her new beau?"

"Well, he dated a chum of mine back in Roedean days, but since then, I'd just say nodding aquaintances. Part of me wants to think he's too old for her, but that's just the big sister in me that needs reminding that she's not still the little girl she was when I left for Roedean and that she seems happy," Chummy replied. "Why?"

"I'll just tell ya' straight, I'm afraid 'e's 'urting 'er," Sister Evangelina spit out.

"What do you mean?" Chummy asked, alarmed.

"Well, I know you've noticed that she's been sporting a fair amount of bumps and bruises lately," Sister replied, then added, "And she is far more quiet than she was when she came."

Chummy thought about what the older woman was saying. She had noticed scraped hand and stiff arm, but Rosie had plausible explanations for those and as far as the change in demeanor, she had noticed, but had put it down to Rosie just settling into her new role. Rosie had always been a boisterious, outgoing girl as a child, and had exhibited those same traits when she had first come to Nonnatus, but Chummy had no experience of her as an adult, except for the odd holiday here and there. It didn't seem outside the realm of possibility that she would calm down with getting to know the other girls. But Sister Evangelina's fears were starting to put doubts in her mind.

"One will speak with her," Chummy said decidedly.

"We had hoped you would," Evangelina gave a rare smile, relieved. "Sister Julienne and I hope she will tell you what she won't tell us."

"She will if I have anything to do with it," she replied, firmly. "And thank you for bringing it to my attention."

Sister Evangelina nodded. She was glad Nurse Noakes had a good head on her shoulders and didn't dismiss her concerns out of hand due to her unfortunate habit of disliking the upper class.

* * *

Peter was surprised to find that it was indeed his house that the wonderful smell was coming from. At this point in the evening, the windows were usually opened wide to let out the smoke and Camilla would be staring forlornly at what was to be their evening meal. He would hide his laughter as he would tell her that he wasn't in the mood for roast beef, or steak and kidney pie, or Cornish pastries, or whatever supper was supposed to have been, then suggest they take dinner out, or that he make up a simple hash while she cleaned the dishes and secretly look forward to Sunday dinner with his folks.

"Hello, Dear," he said, taking off his tunic without looking up.

"Hello, Darling."

His head snapped up at the sound of the wrong voice. Rosie was standing at the stove stirring something that smelled delicious.

"Rosie-poley?"

"Chummy is hemming one's dress for this weekend," she laughed. "Since, according to her, I waited till the last bally minute to ask her, we traded services. Dinner for a bit of sewing."

"And I do say we got the better end of the deal, Old Fellow," Chummy said, joining them in the kitchen. She gave him a quick kiss. "Let me take over, if you aren't doing anything to delicate and you run on back and try it on," she said to Rosie.

"Actually," Rosie replied, putting out the burner. "All you need to do is turn the oven off when you hear the timer. Just turn it off, nothing else. Peter, don't let her do anything else, or she'll ruin what I've been working all afternoon on."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," Chummy called after her retreating figure. Then she glanced at Peter's amused look. "She's only been here an hour and half."

After turning off the oven, Chummy called to Rosie, "Alright in there? How does it fit?"

Rose returned to the kitchen wearing a frilly, lace dress in the most hideous shade of orange. "That depends, should one be able to breathe?"

"No," Chummy teased.

"Ah, then, it's perfect." Rosie noticed that Peter was practically strangling on laughter. "It's alright. You can laugh. Bloody bridesmaid's dress. They're supposed to be horrendous. That way the bride looks even better by comparison."

"Well then it's lovely," he laughed. "Whatever did you do to your leg?" he asked, then seeing the cross look on Camilla's face, wondered if he ought not have said anything. Maybe it was bad form to mention one's sister-in-law's legs, even if it's only the black bruise showing through her stockings that had caught his attention.

"Blasted beds at the London. I hit the footboard of one while I was there. Hurts like the devil. Scourge of nurses everywhere. Just ask Chummy." It wasn't exactly a lie. She had hit the footboard of a bed and it did hurt, it just hadn't made the bruise. "I best take this off, finish dinner, and get back to Nonnatus house. Asher is picking me up at 6:30 and I can't wait to get to Cornwall. Suze's wedding should be just the best."

After Rosie had shut the door to their bedroom to change, Peter spoke to Chummy. "Camilla, I am sorry if I was out of line. I was only concerned with the bruise, not her legs."

"What? Oh, no, Peter, dear. You weren't out of line. I don't expect you to be blind, just because we are married. It's just I noticed that bruise when I was pinning the dress up and I don't think she's quite telling the truth about how she acquired it. I used to work at that hospital and while the beds are the bloody devil, that bruise didn't come from there," she said, quietly. "It looks quite like fingerprints, but she denies it vehemently. Sister Evangelina has noticed too. She was concerned enough to ask me to her cell to discuss it."

That was serious. "Have you ask her about it?"

"She shut downs at any mention of it and one doesn't want to drive her away," she said.

"I understand that. I am afraid that I did drive Delores away as no one has seen her since our tea a few weeks ago," Peter said. "I hope she turns up at my folks one of these days."

"One supposes we will both just have to wait and see. Though it doesn't make one worry that she is about to take a car trip with him for the next few hours. Good thing Pater will be there,at the wedding," Chummy said sadly. One because she worried about her sister and two, because it bothered her more than she would let on that her Pater could make to the wedding of a daughter or an acquaintance but not to hers. "He won't let anything untoward happen to her on his watch."

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

"Tell me, Sassafras, what does one think of Chummy's fellow?"

Rosie looked up from her vanity to see her father leaning against the adjoining door of her room and her parent's room for the weekend. He looked the same as always. Six foot four, salt and pepper hair, deep brown eyes, lean and muscular, with a shot of whiskey in his hand, she supposed he was handsome, but to her he was just Papa.

"Peter?" she question.

"Does she have any other?" he questioned, walking over to sit down beside her on the small bench, laying his arm over her shoulder.

Rose snuggled up to his side for a minute as she thought of what to say. "He's a good egg."

"A good egg, huh?" He said. "Care to elaborate on that? I only have your mother's opinion to go on. I want to know your opinion."

Rosie shrugged. "I know Mummy doesn't like him but I do. He's nice and considerate and funny and he adores Sissy. He watches out for all of us at Nonnatus house, even Sister Monica Joan who alternates between yelling bible verses or poetry at him from the doorway of Nonnatus house, or ushering him in and warning him that his wife is playing him for fool. "

"What?" Robert asked, concerned.

"Don't worry," Rosie giggled. "She means me. She gets confused as to which sister he is actually married to sometimes, usually coinciding when I have a date with Lord Fenton. When he last informed her that he was married to the other Nurse Browne, she says, 'Oh, well then, she's a nice girl. No harm done. Let's go in search of cake.' She is a bit off."

"Marjorie says he's a rozzer."

"Don't let Chummy hear you call him that, but yes, he is a Constable. He's a very good one, actually. One of the few most people in Poplar actually like. Of course, that's probably because he's from Poplar. However, one does expect that that is the reason Mummy doesn't like him," Rosie said.

"So, he's good to her?" Robert Browne asked.

"Wonderful."

"Marjorie says he makes her work because he cannot support them."

Rose could tell that was a big strike in her father's book. He believed a man should be able to support his family or near kill himself trying. "He doesn't _make_ her work. He lets her work. I'm not privy to their finances but I'm sure he supports her just fine. The only reason Chummy has to work is…, well, you know how Sissy is when she has too much time on her hands."

Robert chuckled. He did remember quite a few of Chummy's projects. She was not one for idle hands.

"So you really like this copper?"

Rosie thought for a minute. "He's as much my brother as the boys are now," she answered, realizing, that though it was probably only by proximity, but he was more her brother than them at the moment. "Why didn't you come to their wedding, Papa? It hurt Chummy's feelings horribly that you wouldn't even come. She wanted you to give her away."

"I wasn't in the country," Robert replied. "I didn't even know it was taking place till after it was over."

"What? Mummy told us it was because you didn't approve of Peter," Rose said, shocked.

"One can hardly approve of someone one has never met," he answered, the whiskey loosening his tongue more than he intended. "One supposed one can see why he didn't seek my permission to ask her to marry him, seeing as how she is well past the age of most blushing brides, but one would have at least liked an introduction before the deed was done. I will hold my judgment until I meet him." He drained his whiskey glass and set it down on the vanity. "Now, tell me, how does one like Lord Fenton?"

* * *

Rosie was sure that she had been set up. The second Suze had thrown her bouquet, it was as if all the other single girls had left her standing there, having to catch it. There was no jumping for it, no usual good natured pretend tousle for it. It fell right into her arms. As soon as that was over, Asher had asked her to take a walk with him. Due to all the wedding activities, there had been little time for them to see other and no time alone.

They walked to the little bridge in the middle of a small pond and stopped in the middle to look at the fish.

"So, I guess you have to get married next," he quipped, looking at the flowers still in her hands.

"Only if one it superstitious," she shrugged. "And if I am, then there will be a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth from the other girls as I'm not even engaged."

"Well, if that's all one requires to stop the riots from the girls who lost out…" Asher dropped to his knee in front of her, pulling a small black box from his jacket pocket. "Roseanne, I know we haven't been dating all that long, but I'm crazy about you. Will you marry me?"

For probably the first time in her life, Rosie was speechless as she nodded her consent. "Yes," she finally managed to squeak out.

He placed the ring on her finger then stood up and kissed her until she thought she would faint from happiness, and lack of air.

* * *

"Good evening, Camilla," Peter said, stopping to lean over the back of the settee and place a kiss on her cheek. She was lying down after a most grueling day.

"Supper's ready for once," she responded, starting to get up.

"It will keep," he replied, taking off his tunic and sitting down beside her. He had only seen her for a minute or two that morning as she was already heading out when he woke up. "Long shift?"

"Beastly, you?"

"I got stuck with the new rookie to train, other than that, it went well," he replied.

"Whatever has happened to Nigel?"

"Just moved to a different shift. I saw Rosie made it back from Cornwall. She and Cynthia were racing off toward the Baffin Buildings as I was leaving the station earlier," he said. "Did you have another chance to speak with her?"

Chummy shook her head. "And one fears it may now be too late. They are engaged."

"Really? This soon?"

Chummy nodded. "Of course, knowing Mater, it will be a proper society engagement of a year of longer before they actually get married. Also knowing Mater, I'm sure she's already booked Westminster St. Margaret's and called every caterer in London. Asher is the kind of in-law she's always wanted."

"Instead of a filthy, common copper from the East End?" he grinned.

"You are neither filthy nor common to me," she replied. "If she can't see that, then it's her loss." She sat up and kissed him. "I love you."

"And I love you, Camilla. I was only teasing you," he said.

"Oh," she suddenly brightened. "Rosie also told me that Pa was asking her about you. She said he told her that he wanted more than Mater's opinion to go on. He also told her that he didn't miss our wedding because he doesn't approve of it, but because he was in India and Mater didn't tell him it was happening until he was back in Madeira and it was over. He said he wants to meet you before he makes up his mind. Of course, Rosie said he was about four glasses of whiskey in when they had this conversation."

While Chummy seemed happy that her father didn't necessarily disapprove of her marriage, Peter was a bit angry with Lady Browne for lying to Camilla for really no reason but to hurt her.

"So, does this mean that I will eventually have to meet your father?" He teased.

"Sooner than you think. Mater has already arranged an engagement party for Asher and Rosie-Poley the weekend after Christmas. We've been invited to Gran's house in Bradford-on-Avon for that weekend," Chummy said. "And Rosie has already been begging me for us to go, but if you would rather not or can't get the time off, we don't have to go." She was hoping it wouldn't be enough time for him to take time off.

"We'll go. It'll be fun, Camilla and Rosie may need you there. Besides, we can't avoid your family forever," he said. "I'll just volunteer to work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day so that I can take that weekend off."

"Rosie and I are doing the same. Though one did hope you wouldn't want to go."

"I want to do whatever you feel comfortable doing, you know that. However, I would like to meet your father and brothers," Peter said.

"Yes, one would like to see the boys again," Chummy said, and then smiled. She wasn't sure she wanted to go to yet another high society party, with the same stuck up men and catty women, but she did so want to see her brothers. "We'll go. Now, let's eat."

"You didn't happen to do anymore sewing for Rosie today, did you?" Peter questioned.

"You are so rude to me," Chummy replied with a laugh.

* * *

"Rosanna Fortescue Cholmeley-Browne," Trixie zeroed on in her as she and Cynthia came into the kitchen after seeing Mrs. Rachel Jones' latest baby born. "You naughty thing. You slipped in here last night, right past everyone and told no one about your weekend trip. Now, spill."

Rosie couldn't stop the smile that was spreading over her face. "Well, nothing too exciting happened," she said. "Except..," She pulled her crucifix off and pulled the ring from it, putting it on her hand. "He asked me to marry him!" She held out her hand with a flourish.

Trixie squealed and hugged her, followed by Jenny, and Cynthia.

"That's wonderful," Jenny said.

"And you all are invited to our engagement party on December 27 in Bradford-on-Avon. It's our Grandmother's home," Rose said. "And one has already talked to Sister Julienne and she's agreed that you all can have Saturday off if you'd want to come. Please want to come. I'm not sure that Chummy will and I need you all with me."

"Of course we'd want to come, Daffy," Trixie giggled. "A fancy society do? We wouldn't miss it, would we girls?"

"No," Cynthia agreed, hugging her. "I look forward to it."

"It'll be a blast," Jenny agreed.

"Thank you all. If I can convince her, Chummy, Peter, and I will go down on that Friday, Boxing Day, and then Pater will send a car for you all on Saturday. In time to help me dress for the party," Rosie said. "It really will be a splendid do."

"So, Peter has to meet your father finally?" Cynthia asked.

"Yes, and the boys. Chummy may never forgive me," Rosie laughed.

"Well, we will be there for her, too, then," Jenny said, firmly.

* * *

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	15. Chapter 15

"Hello, Peter." Rosie stopped her bicycle in front of him and his new partner.

"Hello, Rosie, Sister Evangelina," he said, as the nun joined them. "Where are you ladies off to this morning?" If it was a delivery, they wouldn't have stopped to talk.

"To see your Da," Sister Evangelina answered. "Dr. Turner wants us to go by and dress his hand for a few days. Make sure infection doesn't set in." Peter's dad was a greengrocer and had sliced his hand on a crate the day before, needing stitches to close it.

"Rotten business, that," Peter said. "He knows he's not supposed to be lifting those crates by 'imself. Lucky he didn't break his hand. I stopped by last night. He was in good spirits. He was pretty well lit, as well, so that might have had something to do with it."

"No doubt," Sister agreed.

"Camilla tells me congratulations are in order," Peter said to Rosie.

Rosie's eyes lit up as she smiled and nodded. "Please tell me that you and Chummy are going to be able to go to Mater's party. It'll be positively horrendous if you don't."

"I think we should be able to," he replied, noting that she said it her mother's party and not hers. Then as if remembering, he motioned to the young man standing quietly next to him. "Sorry, manners. This is Eamon O'Conner; he's new to our station. Eamon, this is Nurse Brown and Sister Evangelina of Nonnatus house."

"Nice to meet you," Rose said, distracted, pulling out a cigarette, since it seemed that Sister Evangelina had decided that it was indeed a good time for a break.

"A Nonnatus nun?" Eamon asked. "My Dad was delivered by a Nonnatun. All my Gran's babies were. I've 'eard the story as 'ow she wouldn't 'ave survived without your lot all my life. Pleasure to meet you." He shook her hand warmly.

"Who is your Gran?" Evangelina asked, not recognizing the man as a Poplar boy.

"Maureen O'Connor, lives down in Bow."

"So it was your Grandda who just passed. Sorry to 'ear about that," Evangelina said.

"Thank you, Sister. That's why I transferred down 'ere. To stay with 'er for a while. To 'elp 'er get back on 'er feet," he said, but he was watching Rosie searching her pockets.

"Bally Trixie," she finally exclaimed. " She nicked my lighter again."

"Well, unless you want these gentlemen to arrest 'er, this isn't a tragedy," Sister Evangelina said. She rolled her eyes at the young nurse, though there were times she wished smoking wasn't a luxury she could no longer partake in.

"She'd only take my lighter to the pokey with her," Rosie shot back.

Before she could grumble further, Eamon produced a lighter from his pocket, struck it and held it out to her.

She lit her cigarette, then smiled up at him, thoroughly charmed. She took in the sight of the man she had barely glanced at before. He was tall, broad shouldered, with green eyes. "Ta," she said.

Eamon nodded.

"Ta?" Peter snickered.

"Shut up, Peter," Rosie said, her cheeks coloring pink.

"Right then," Sister Evangelina said. "We best be getting on."

"Yes, Sister," Rosie said, putting out the flame. She grabbed Peter's hand. "Thank you for convincing Camilla to go to Gran's. I need her to get through it." She squeezed his hand, then climbed on her bike and took off after Sister Evangelina.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Rosie and Sister Evangelina were ushered into Sylvia Noakes' kitchen.

"'Ello, Lovey," she said, wrapping an arm around Rosie's shoulder. She hugged her warmly. "Sister Evangelina." She nodded. "You'll both be staying for a bit of lunch, then won't you? You'll need it after dealing with 'im." She nodded toward the front room where Peter's father was listening to the wireless.

"'Ow is the patient?" Sister Evangelina asked.

"As ornery as ever. Of course, if 'e wasn't so ornery, 'e wouldn't be in this mess," she said. "'E's 'urting but won't admit it. The Doctor gave 'im some pills, but he won't take them. Stubborn fool." She still had an arm around Rosie's shoulders and gave her another small hug. "It's so nice to see you again, dear."

"You, too." Rosie accepted the kindness for what it was. She liked Peter's parents. More than once, Sylvia had taken Rosie by the arm after church, insisting that she join the family for Sunday dinner, not letting her refuse for any reason other than being on first call. She always had a warm smile and firm hug for Rosie, even though she was just Peter's sister-in-law. And Peter's Dad, Michael, Sr. had taken to calling her Petal and teasing her good-naturedly.

"The nurses are here to see you," she called into the parlor. "Turn off the wireless and come get your treatment so we can have our lunch. Now, ladies, what do you need from me?"

"Hot water," Sister Evangelina replied.

"Shoulda' known that," Sylvia said. "You always want 'ot water." She looked at Rosie. "Sister Evangelina delivered both my boys."

Rosie smiled. That made sense. Sister Evangelina always had a soft spot for the children to deliver. "You delivered Peter?"

"Your powers of deduction are amazing, Nurse Browne," Sister replied, sharply. "Now, see to your patient if you don't mind."

"'Ello, Petal," Michael said coming into the kitchen. "I told that Doctor when 'e started talking about nurses that 'e better get me a good-lookin' one. Glad 'e listened."

"Oh, hush with you now," Sylvia said. "Sit down, and behave yerself."

"Hush yerself, Woman," he replied, sitting down at the table. "I was just 'aving me a little josh with our girl, 'ere. She knows she's good-lookin'. She don't mine, do ya' Petal?"

Rosie smiled and shook her head as she readied her equipment. She loved being at the Noakes. She didn't know why they included her in things, but she was certain that if Michael Jr. or his wife ever turned up in Madeira, they wouldn't receive the warm welcome she always did in that small flat above Noakes grocery.

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	16. Chapter 16

Christmas time at Nonnatus was almost magical. Rosie was in high spirits. Everything was going on swimmingly. Okay, so maybe Mater was driving her crazy about the engagement party, but no more than Rosie expected.

Things with Asher hadn't been better since their engagement. His deal with Jackson Industries done, he was back to the sweet, loving Asher she had known before. He was attentive and kind, and no more 'accidents' had happened. Alright, so maybe he was a little pushy about being intimate, but that was normal, right?

She was sitting on the counter in the kitchen of the parish hall, enjoying a smoke while Jenny was going on about Mrs. Jenkins. She didn't see what Jenny's big fuss was. Mrs. Jenkins always turned up when a baby was being born. All you had to do was tell her that mother and baby was thriving and she'd let you go on your way.

"…a meth's drinker asked me for small change the other day, and I nearly lost my bran flakes."

Rosie looked up at Chummy's confession, one eyebrow raised. "Weak tummy, Chums?" She nudged Trixie with her elbow.

Trixie giggled, the joke picked up on, "Any light headedness?"

"Fatigue?"

"No," Chummy replied, less than amused. "Trixie, one doesn't think one likes the influence you have had over one's sister."

"Too bad," Trixie grinned. "She's mine now." She put out her cigarette and hopped off the counter and looked at Rosie. "Coming?"

Rosie shook her head. "Sorry, I told Sis I would help her with the boys today."

"Boo. See you ladies at home." She swept out the door followed shortly by Sister Evangelina and Jenny.

"No more talk of babies, Rosie-Poley, or I shall be forced to tell of the time you showed your underpants to all of St. Margaret's whilst playing the Virgin Mary," Chummy threatened.

"One was a child," Rosie said, her cheeks flushing pink.

"One was fourteen," Chummy snickered.

"Oh, hush you!" Rosie grabbed the crooks for the shepherds and rushed out.

A week later, she was wise enough not to make any comments about how cute Chummy and Peter were when they were feeding and cuddling Baby Raymond.

* * *

Christmas Eve was peaceful, but Christmas was terribly hectic. Seemed like every first time mother in Poplar had gotten caught up in the excitement and thought her time was here. They had been out of twelve calls and only had one delivery and that one was a fourth timer who swore she wasn't in labor.

It was half-past midnight when the bell rang. Rosie groaned and threw a pillow at Chummy who had dozed off on the other settee in the nurses' sitting room. The only bright spot of the day had been the two heaping plates of food sent over by Sylvia, via Peter, for Christmas dinner. They had tucked in after the long day and soon found themselves dropping off.

"Bell," she said. They were the only ones there as Cynthia and Jenny had gone to see family for the evening and Trixie was on another call.

"You get it," Chummy replied, not opening her eyes. "It's probably some frantic father who has forgotten how to use the blasted telephone."

Rosie struggled to her feet, straightened her uniform and made her way to the door.

It wasn't an expectant father at the door, but rather a very disgruntled Constable with two younger constables in tow. All three looked worse for wear.

"My word, Peter," she exclaimed. "What have you lot gotten into? You look sight."

"Fight at the Master's Arms," he said. "Can you patch them up? Eamon caught the wrong end of a broken bottle and I think Richie sprained his wrist."

"And you're bleeding," she replied, motioned to him arm where his tunic was torn.

"Bloody blighters," he mumbled. "If Ben Masterson doesn't get back to tending bar, we're going to have to shut that place down. Fights every bloody night."

She could tell by the look on his face, he hadn't even noticed his own wounds. "Come in, come in." There was a kind of agreement with the Nonnatuns and the constables. They took extra care for the Nonnatuns and in return, the Sisters and Nurses took care of them when they were battered up. "CAMILLA! Wakey-wakey! Your husband is here and he's wounded from battling with the forces of drunkenness and stupidity."

"What?" Chummy had joined them in the hallway, her steps hastening when she saw the three men.

"Fight at the Master's Arms," Peter explained, Chummy already examining his arm.

Rosie led them to the equipment room while Chummy went to boil some water.

She was examining Eamon when Trixie walked in.

"Oh, very well," she laughed. "You all send me out on a case of Braxton hicks and entertain 3 handsome gentlemen while I'm gone." She put her bag down and took over splinting Richie's arm.

Eamon had a large gash across his cheek but as Rosie leaned in close to him and gently touched his face, he suddenly didn't mind as much.

"You'll need stitches," she pronounced.

"And this one will need to go to hospital. I think this wrist might just be broken. What kind of policemen are you, getting beat up in a little bar fight?" Trixie teased.

"Well, four on seventy isn't exactly fair odds," Eamon answered good-naturedly. "I don't have to go to hospital too, do I?"

"Not if you're brave enough to let me stitch you up," Rosie replied.

"I'd let you do anything," he replied before stammering out. "If it means I won't have to go to hospital. Me Gran would have a fit."

"Yes, well," Rosie blushed. "This might hurt a bit." She busied herself cleaning the wound when Chummy had returned with the hot water.

After they had gotten all three police men patched, Eamon and Peter back on duty and Richie safely off to the Poplar hospital, all three young ladies retired to bed. The two sisters in the same room as Chummy's old quarters were still under two inches of water. Neither one sleeping, both dreading the day to come.

"How was Peter's arm?" Rose asked into the darkness.

"Not too bad, just a scratch. His tunic took the brunt of it," Chummy replied.

"Do you think…?" Rosie faded off before finding her courage again. "Do you think his friend, the redhead, will ever get away from her husband?"

"It could be done. If she wanted to escape all she has to do is ask for help, but right now, it seems she doesn't want get out, just for him to change," Chummy paused. "Roseanna, if there's anything you want to tell me, if you need help, we would do whatever necessary without a moment's hesitation."

"Don't be silly, Chums," Rosie replied with a gaiety she didn't feel. "Why ever would I need help? I've told you. Things are tickety-boo."

Chummy let the conversation fall into the darkness, knowing it was useless. Maybe the phone would kind and let them get a few hours' sleep before the Sisters returned and they were off duty.

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	17. Chapter 17

Chummy was looking out of her parlor window when the long black car pulled up at eleven o'clock on the dot. Her nervousness at seeing her parents again had her practically vibrating. She hesitated at the ringing of the bell.

"Come on, Camilla," Peter said gently. "Not answering the door won't make them go away."

"Are you sure? We could turn out all the lights and hide under the furniture like they do in the pictures," she responded, only half joking.

"It never works in movies," Peter replied.

"One supposes you are right. Best crack on." She went to the door while he picked up their suitcases.

"Charles!" Charles Wainwright had been her parents' chauffeur for as long as she could remember. His wife Mary was their housekeeper.

"Hello, Miss Camilla," the older man smiled. Then stammered out an apology as Peter joined them. "I'm so sorry, Miss. I mean Mrs. I mean, Mrs. Noakes. That.., that is right, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's Noakes, but no, Mrs. Noakes isn't right. I'm still just Chummy," she replied.

"Very good, Ms. Chummy," he smiled. "Give us a hug, Lovey."

Chummy hugged him then introduced Peter. "Peter, this is Charles Wainwright, Papa's chauffeur since I was in nappies. Charles, this is my husband, Peter Noakes."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Peter said, holding out his hand.

Charles was taken aback for a moment, while the Cholmeley-Brown children weren't much for standing on tradition, most others in their world still did. "Same to you, sir." He shook Peter's hand vigorously. "I always knew our Chummy would marry well. Here let me take those bags. Our little Rosie is already in car, tuckered out asleep."

It seemed against everything Peter had been taught to let the older man carry their bags when he was more than capable of it himself, but he followed Chummy's lead on it. He opened the door for her to slide in. Sure enough, Rosie was curled up against the other door, sound asleep.

An hour later, the streets of Poplar had given way to the less crowded suburbs and finally to the country, Peter had given into the fatigue of his long night, sleeping against the doorframe, Rosie hadn't stirred, leaving only Chummy awake. She had her head on Peter's shoulder, but sleep would not come as she stared out the window at the rolling landscape. She had gotten the most sleep off the three of them the night before. Rosie had been out on one more call after they had patched the constables up, and Peter had barely gotten a nap between his shift and when they were to leave.

"He seems like a very nice young man," Charles said, noticing Chummy's eyes in the rear mirror.

Chummy smiled. "He is."

"I meant what I said. I always knew you'd do well for yourself," he replied. "You seem very happy."

"I am," she admitted. "One is just a little worried..,"

"He won't fit in?"

"Well, I never did," Chummy confessed, glumly. "Why will it be different this time?"

* * *

Peter wasn't sure what he was expecting of Colonel Robert Browne but the large man who bounded down the steps and gathered both Rosie and Chummy in his arms was not it.

"There are my girls," Robert said, hugging them both at once. "Give your old man a kiss." He kissed both on the forehead then took a step back holding their hands and looking at them. "Pretty as a picture. Chummy, marriage suits you, speaking of which, are you going to introduce me to your husband?" He let go of his daughters and turned to Peter who had been watching the scene quietly. "Colonel Robert Brown."

"Peter Noakes." He shook his father-in-law's hand. "Nice to meet you, Sir."

"It's just Robert," the older man answered. "I don't hold with getting a title just for doing one's job and if I did, I'm much more proud of Colonel."

"Yes, si.., Robert," he replied.

Robert looked at his new son-in-law for a long minute, sizing him up. He noticed that Peter carried himself confidently, but seemed a little ill at ease. He saw Peter slide his hand in Chummy's when she started to fidget, calming her down. Liking what he saw, and not wanting Chummy to have a nervous fit, he clapped Peter on the back, wrapped an arm around Rosie and turned towards the house. "Come on, one took the liberty of having Ma's cook make a late lunch. The grand lady is having a nap herself, but I dare say she'll be up and about by supper.

"The grand lady?" Peter questioned. "Your mother?"

"Worse," Chummy replied. "His."

* * *

Peter didn't really understand the custom of dressing in one's finest for dinner, but he was resigned to do what was 'proper' for Chummy's sake. They had been spared the presence of Lady Browne so far, as she had been in London with a last minute catering meeting and Peter didn't want to give her any fuel to criticize Chummy tonight. He hadn't had more than a passing conversation with Robert since their introduction, but he seemed to be a nice enough fellow. At least he hadn't taken one look at the lowly East Ender trash that married his daughter and thrown him off the property.

He was staring out the window of the room he and Chummy were staying in. She had told him it was her room from when she was a child. He could see Mater's attempts to make Chummy more 'feminine' as nearly everything in the room was pink, white, or lacy. He pushed aside the lacy, pink curtains and watched as Rosie dragged a patio chair over and used it to climb on top of the garden wall and sit. Judging by the way she kept looking around, he could guess it probably wasn't thought to be the most proper thing to do.

Peter smiled. "Why would Rosie be sitting on the garden wall acting like she is escaping from jail?"

"Hiding to have a smoke, one would imagine," Chummy replied from the bath. "That must mean Mater is back. She hates Rosie's smoking. She doesn't think its lady like."

"Oh." He looked back at the window. "I think I might go out and sit with her. Would you mind?" Now that he was dressed, he was getting a little stir crazy in the pink room.

"Of course not," she replied. "Though do come back before dinnertime, please. One will need some help with one's zipper and one would hate to have to find another husband to assist me."

"In that case, I'll be back. Can't have that now, can I?" he teased.

"Got another?"

Rosie nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of another's voice.

"Wotcher!" He grabbed her shoulders, steadying her from falling off the wall.

"Peter! You frightened the life out of me!" She exclaimed. She held out the cigarette she had. "Don't have another, I'm afraid. I have to sneak them out one at a time. One would have never imagined that living in a convent would be less restrictive than living at home."

He took a puff then handed it back. He never really smoked anymore, just when the odd nightshift was getting too long. It made his lungs worse if he did it too much, so he had given it up for good when Camilla had admitted to not liking the smell when they were dating, but this day was starting to seem like one of those interminable night shifts. "Well, they aren't Catholic nuns."

Rosie grinned, remembering their conversation on the docks on the Isle of Dogs. "Your new partner…," she started. "What's his name again?"

"O'Connor?"

"Yes, that's it. What's his first name?"

"Eamon."

"Eamon O'Connor." She said the name slowly, as though it felt good on her lips. "What's his story?" She passed the cigarette back.

"What do mean? He's staying with his Gran for a while until she gets back on her feet. His Grandpa just died a few weeks ago," Peter answered.

"So, he won't be around very long?"

"Well, you aren't supposed to request transfer more than once a year unless promoted so, he'll be around for at least that long," Peter said.

"Does he have a girlfriend?" Rosie immediately blushed. She hadn't meant to ask that. It just slipped out. She was wondering. Just solely as a curiosity, of course. She was engaged after all. The tall, blonde Irishman was the last of her concerns.

Peter snickered. "Not that he's told me," he answered. He passed the cigarette back to her.

Rosie took one last long puff, then snuffed it out, held her hand out to Peter, jumping off the wall. "Best go in for dinner. How does one like Chummy's 'Very Pink' room? Does Gran still have all those creepy dolls in there?"

"I feel as though I'm drowning in Pepto Bismol," he answered. "And yes, the creepy dolls are still there."

Rosie laughed. "My room is the same, except I get a nauseating shade of lavender instead of pink."

From an upstairs window, Lady Browne had been watching the exchange with a definite frown on her face. And for once it wasn't caused by Rosie's smoking.

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	18. Chapter 18

"Have a nice talk?" Chummy asked, when true to his word, Peter returned to their room before dinner.

"Quite. Do you still need help?" he asked.

"Not sure," she replied. She was sitting at the dressing table in her slip, fastening her suspenders. She went over and opened the wardrobe in the room, revealing a multitude of dresses, suits, and skirts and eyed them warily.

"Are those yours?" Peter asked, shocked.

"No, they are Gran's. They are made to fit me and I'm supposed to have the illusion that they are mine, but they are really Gran's. How else can she ensure that Rosie and I will dress appropriately? We may even show up in slacks some day without her guidance," she said. "I love Gran, but I hate these clothes. However, when in Rome."

He had to admit that the dress she pulled out and slipped on looked more like one Rosie would wear than Chummy. He pulled the zipper up the back and placed a kiss on the nape of her neck.

"I like that," she smiled.

"Really?" He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her again.

"Really. What did you and Rosie talk about?"

"O'Connor," he replied.

"Your partner?"

He nodded. "She wanted to know how long he would be around. And if he has a girlfriend."

"What?" She turned to face him.

Peter shrugged. "She asked if he had a girlfriend."

"But she's engaged."

"I know," he replied. "That's what I told him when he asked the same thing about her last night. He seemed quite put out to hear that."

"But..,"

Before Chummy could express her thoughts, there was a knock at the door, interrupting them.

Peter reluctantly let go of his wife and opened the door.

"Oh. You're here," Lady Browne said coldly.

"Yes, I'm here," Peter answered, not sure what he had done by just answering the door.

"Camilla, I would like to speak to you in private," Lady Brown replied, stepping around Peter into the room.

Peter looked at Chummy who nodded her consent. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said, leaving the room.

"Camilla, do you know what your husband was just doing?"

"Talking to Roseanna in the garden? Yes, I know," Chummy replied.

"It was more than talking, Camilla. I hate to tell you this, but your husband has a wandering eye and it has landed on your sister," Lady Browne reported.

Chummy couldn't help the snicker that slipped out before she could answer. "Peter and Rosie? Mother, whatever would give you that idea?"

"I was watching them in the garden and they were being quite intimate with each other," Lady Browne said.

"MATER! How dare you? I don't know which one that comment would speak worse of, Rosie or Peter! They are friends, Mater. I don't know what you think you saw, but whatever it was, it's called being friendly!" Chummy was as amazed by this comment as by the 'delicate condition' one on her wedding day.

"They were sharing a cigarette," Lady Browne almost whispered.

"Oh, no, Mater! Not sharing a cigarette," Camilla feigned shock. "In that case, I feel I should warn you that she has also shared cigarettes with Trixie Franklin, occasionally Cynthia Miller, and even Gran. You should really talk to her about that."

"I intend to. I'm happy you think this is such a joke, Camilla. Don't come crying to me when his wandering eyes lead him astray," Lady Browne snapped. "And since this is so funny to you, I suppose one doesn't care that they were also holding hands." She turned and left the room.

Chummy could only shake her head.

* * *

Peter was waiting for Chummy at the top of the stairs. He could guess that Lady Browne didn't just want a catch up session with her daughter and thought that Camilla might need a shoulder to cry on or an ear to yell in before facing everyone else.

"You there, young man."

Peter turn to see an elderly woman coming towards him leaning heavily on a cane. She appeared to be in her eighties.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Be a dear and help me down those stairs," she said, reaching him and taking his arm. "If I fall and break a hip, my daughter-in-law will have me in a private care home before I can spit."

Peter looked back at Camilla's room for a moment; he had really hoped to wait for her.

"Oh, do come along, Dear, I dare say Camilla knows her way to the sitting room. She practically grew up here," Elizabeth Browne said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You see, I am assuming that you are Camilla's Peter, which makes you my new best friend," she said.

Peter looked at her confused.

"Why, you ask? Because we have a great deal in common. We both love Camilla. Neither of us uses that silly Chummy. I could strangle my son for hanging that moniker on her. I named her Camilla and Camilla, I meant for her to be. And finally, the fact that either of us still exist, annoys the hell out of my daughter-in-law. I like that, so I like you," she explained.

"Roseanna, be a dear and fetch me a gin and tonic and whatever this young man drinks," Elizabeth called to her granddaughter as Peter helped her get settled on a sofa. She patted the seat beside her. "Now tell me, how did you meet my Camilla? The only answer I can get from Marjorie is that she met you at work. One hopes that doesn't mean she was delivering a child of yours."

"No ma'am," Peter replied sensing no malice in the statement. "She.., well,"

"She plowed him down with her bike," Rosie said, handing her the requested drink and Peter a glass of whiskey. She hadn't asked what he wanted to drink. They had been on enough group outings that she could assume he would want whiskey.

"Thank you, Roseanna, however that question wasn't directed at you," Elizabeth answered sharply. "Give Gran a kiss then run up and see what is taking your sister and mother so long."

"Yes, ma'am." She kissed the elderly lady before running upstairs.

Elizabeth turned back to Peter. "Is that true?"

He nodded. "There was an incident with her bicycle when she was learning how to ride. She went to turn, panicked, forgot how to brake, and I happened to be crossing the street at the wrong time."

"And you didn't arrest her for assault?"

He shook his head. "Even my Captain agreed it was an accident. Camilla and the other nurses were more banged up than I was."

"Camilla learning to ride a bicycle," the old lady mused. "That must have been a sight. She always refused to even try when the children were all younger," she paused for a moment. "Did you ever consider, Peter, that perhaps you were crossing the street at the right time?"

"Every day," he grinned.

* * *

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